


The Heart behind the Mask.

by Bluebuell33



Series: I did it for you. [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A game of cat and mouse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Anthea, Betrayal, Greg Lestrade being Greg, Hurt Mycroft Holmes, M/M, More tags to come as I go., Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft loves Greg, Pining, Protective Mycroft, There is going to be some sadness and angst most likely., mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-10-26 16:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17749787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: ReceivedLAZARUSMycroft set down his phone. So begins the end. Lazarus was in motion. He stood, straightening his waistcoat, checking his cuffs before sliding on his jacket, fasting the double buttons and picking up his umbrella.Battle stations.This battle may be over but the war was still raging.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Mycroft's side of When I thought I lost you. You may want to read that first if you have not already. Otherwise, you will probably be very lost in this story. I hope you enjoy this story. I will be posting as I finish chapters, much like I did in the other. This story will jump around more as it fills in the blanks and also tells about what Mycroft and Greg were doing during When I thought I lost you. Ahhh I hope you guys don't hate this. This is also my first Mystrade. I have not written a story just for them yet, so here we go!

****************************************

 

**Received**  

**LAZARUS**  

 

Mycroft set down his phone. So begins the end. Lazarus was in motion. He stood, straightening his waistcoat, checking his cuffs before sliding on his jacket, fasting the double buttons and picking up his umbrella.  

Battle stations.   

This battle may be over but the war was still raging.  

 

 

*************** 

-3 Months early- 

 

Mycroft reentered the bedroom to find Greg sprawled across his side of the bed, his face buried in Mycroft’s pillow. The light from the windows highlighting Greg’s silvery hair making it shine like starlight in the morning.  

The duvet was pushed down covering only his love’s bottom half, his broad back lay naked calling to Mycroft. It took everything not to undress and climb back into bed, to pull Greg against him and kiss every inch of bare skin. But duty called and he had a flight to catch.  

Stepping up next to the bed, he ran the back of his fingers down the side of Greg’s face, from his temple to the end of his chin. Greg hummed at the contact, leaning towards Mycroft’s touch.  

“Myc?”  

“Sleep, my love. I will see you this evening.” Mycroft whispered, placing a kiss on Greg’s temple before turning and leaving the room.  

Once in the car, he texted Anthea to make sure Greg got his message about dinner later this evening at their favourite restaurant. After he turned his mind to the task at hand. Moriarty. He had been putting off dealing with the mad man, but now it was time.  

 

************ 

-The night after Sherlock fell- 

 

Mycroft knocked on his guest room door and waited for Sherlock to answer.  

“It’s open.”  

Mycroft entered the room to find Sherlock sitting on the floor in the corner. He was watching the CCTV cameras from outside St. Barts, replaying the footage from when he fell. Mycroft didn’t need to see the feed to know Sherlock was watching John fall apart over and over each time Sherlock jumped.  

“Oh, Sherlock.”  

“He wasn’t supposed to care... Not like this...What have I done, Mycroft?” Sherlock’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the room. 

“What you had to do. There is still time for you to tell him before you go.”  

“No, It's safer for him this way. Promise me, you will look out for him, but you cannot tell him, Mycroft. Promise me.” There was a plea in Sherlock’s voice as he stared up at his brother.  

“I promise, Sherlock. Your flight leaves at half-past five.” His heart ached for the pain his little brother was going through.  

“Thank you, Mycroft. Sherlock went back to the video.  

Mycroft let out a small sigh before leaving the room. Reaching for his phone, he checks the messages from Anthea, making sure John made it home to Baker Street.  

 

Received 

**Dropped individual at Baker Street.**  

 

Really should work on her compassion, thought Mycroft before pulling up the private video feeds from Baker Street. He could see John sitting his chair staring at Sherlock’s, his face was blank. Lost. Better set the alerts up for the next few weeks.  

Downstairs, he could hear the doorbell ringing wildly.  _Greg_. Shouldn’t have ignored Greg’s messages when he asked if Mycroft was okay. For now, Greg couldn’t know Sherlock was alive either. Off to play the hard, uncaring brother. His heart ached at the thought, but this was all part of the plan that must be followed. Mycroft hated that this plan had caused the rift between Greg and him, resulting in Greg moving out 3 weeks ago. But Mycroft had known what parts he and Greg had to play to make sure Moriarty was taking care of.   

After all, was said and done, Mycroft hoped that Greg would forgive him for everything. Anthea had assured him, that this was the best way. The fewer people that knew the truth the better.  

Mycroft put his armor up before opening the door to Greg. Even with it in place, the vision of Greg, teary-eyed and lost, ripped at his heartstrings.  _Stay strong, have to do this._  

“Mycroft, I know that you probably don’t want me here, but I had to come after everything that happened today. I just—I just wanted to check on you.” 

“How very thoughtful of you, Greg. After all, you are part of the reason my brother is now dead. I do hope you feel better now that you have come to check on me. Now if you would please leave.” Mycroft shut the door, giving Greg no chance to respond. He didn’t think his heart could take the look in Greg's eyes at his words. This had to be done, it was the only way to keep them all safe. The cruelty in his words, cut him deep. He hated himself for saying them to Greg. 

He leaned against the closed door, urging his heart to stop trying to tear his chest apart. His phone ping from his pocket. Movement at Baker Street, checking the feed, showed John moving down the hall to Sherlock's room. There were no cameras in that room, Mycroft had hoped John would keep to the main rooms, so he was better able to watch him.  

He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, with Sherlock was upstairs about to leave on a deadly mission, Greg was outside almost a shell of himself due to his part of this and John barely alive, teetering on the edge of a knife. Mycroft didn’t know which way everything would tip, but he promised to look after John for Sherlock and it was a promise he meant to keep. Again, he hoped Anthea was right when she said Greg would forgive him for everything.  

His body screamed to throw the door open and pull Greg into his arms, to hold him close and say everything will work out in the end. That they would be together again. He was having doubts about the plan already, in regards to him and Greg. He should have told him from the beginning. But it was too late now.  

Now he had to continue forward or all would be lost and months of planning and work would go up in smoke. Mycroft leaned against his door before sliding to the floor, he laid his head back against it and waited until he heard Greg drive away, a single tear making its way down his cheek.  

 

****************** 

-One Week Later- 

He was in a meeting when his phone ping. Baker Street. John had not been doing well at all. Worse than they thought he would. Mycroft turned his phone over and pulled up the feed. John was back in the sitting room, writing a note, his gun sitting next to his chair.  

This was not good. There was no way he could make it there in time. _Greg!_  He quickly sent a text to Greg and Anthea about John and hoped one of them could make it there.  

A half an hour later, he received a text from Greg.  

**Received**  

**Took gun. John alive.**  

 

**Sent**  

**Thank you. MH**  

 

**Received**  

**I did it for him.**  

 

**Sent**  

**I know. MH**  

 

Mycroft set down his phone, rubbing his hands over his face. That had been close. Too close. Watching John was becoming a full-time job. The man was falling apart and Mycroft didn’t know what to do or what John would do next.  

It had only been a week. Maybe John just needed some time...  

 

***************** 

 

-3 Days Later- 

 

His phone pinged. Message from Anthea. 

 

**Received**  

**He is gone.**  

 

**Sent**  

**When and are you sure? MH**  

 

**Received**  

**20 Minutes ago. Packed bag, left keys.**  

 

 

 

Mycroft arrived at 221B just as Greg pulled up. He took a moment to just watch Greg crossing the sidewalk. They had not spoken since Greg had taking John’s gun over a week ago and that had only been a few texts.  

 

Mycroft’s heart cried out at the sight of his love. How he wanted to sweep that man into his arms, drag him into this car and drive away together. But the look on Greg’s face said that would not be welcome. So instead he slid on his mask of indifference and stepped out of the car. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft felt like his heart could burst from the overflow of love he felt towards Greg. His shining star. His light in the formidable dark that surrounded his waking moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are all enjoying this. Thanks for the kudos and lovely comments. Hope you like chapter 2!

*********************

 

-8 months before the fall-

Their bodies were covered in sweat, moving against each other. Soft panting and moans filled the room. Mycroft marveled at the touch of his lover's hands roaming freely across his body, wring sounds of pleasure from him. Mycroft's own hands gripping the bed sheet as he cried out, while his beloved Greg enveloped his prick within the warmth of his mouth. He reached towards Greg's head, sliding his fingers through Greg's silky short hair, cause both of them to groan at the touch. What had he done to deserve such a beautiful person to be so in love with? Mycroft felt like his heart could burst from the overflow of love he felt towards Greg. His shining star. His light in the formidable dark that surrounded his waking moments. 

***********************

-Baker Street after John disappeared-

Mycroft stood in 221b, taking everything in, he could read every sad moment John had endured in the past week. Multiple burned cigarettes in the ashtray, Sherlock’s experiments still across the kitchen table. The flat look as if both it's occupants merely went out for the afternoon and would be back later. 

Sadly, this was not the truth, Mycroft didn’t know at this rate if either would make it back to this hidden hamlet, they called home. He scrubbed a hand across his face, before collecting himself to deal with what came next. Keeping them both alive. Don’t let Sherlock know John is gone and don’t let John know Sherlock is alive, but get them both back safely. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket dialing Anthea's number.

“Yes, I will need surveillance sent up for John Watson immediately, also make sure that all bills are up to date and taking care of for 221B for the foreseeable future. Sherlock will want everything just as it is when he gets back.”

Thud. 

Mycroft turned slowly as he hangs up on Anthea as well. Standing behind him on the stairs was Greg, looking as though he had just been gutted. 

“What do you mean Sherlock will want everything as it is when he gets back??” Greg's voice shook as he spoke. Mycroft could only watch the man he loved looking at him with such disbelief. He should never have listened to Anthea and lied to Greg.

“Myc, what do you mean? Tell me is—is Sherlock alive?” 

Mycroft took a deep breath before answering the man who held his breaking heart. 

“Greg, I—I wanted to tell you, but everything hinged on you not knowing. It had to be done to ensure Moriarty believed he was in control and winning.” Mycroft looked towards the floor before returning his gaze to Greg, who held the door frame like a lifeline. 

“Did John know?” Greg’s voice was low almost a growl. 

“It was paramount to the plan that everyone played their part to the letter-" 

“But did he know, Mycroft?” Greg’s anger seeped from his words. “All this time, he was grieving for a man that never died and you never thought to tell him?” 

“It was not my decision.”

“No! No, you don’t get to excuse this away. It’s like I don’t even know who you are... what kind of person does that?” Greg stepped back turning towards the stairs. “I don’t want to see or hear from you, Mycroft. Do you understand? No checking up on me. No anything. And that’s final.” 

Mycroft stood unmoving as he watched Greg walk away from him again. Things were even worse now, Greg was never going to forgive him for this. 

****************************

**Report on John Watson**

Last seen entering Poland. Acquired several handguns and ammo. 

Using a fake passport name: John Doe. Caught up with 3 known associates of Moriarty’s. All dead. 

We have stopped border agents from checking his bags for weapons. 

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to the report in front of him. John was rampaging across Europe. The wake of bodies and damage exceeded that of Sherlock, who was traveling more under the radar. Barely making a wave as he traveled, though he wasn’t under the impression that his best friend had killed himself because of these people. John, on the other hand, didn’t feel like he had a reason to live and was out to avenge his falling friend. 

Had Mycroft been in John's place, he would most likely be doing the same thing. As it was he had lost the only man he would love over this ordeal. Greg had changed his number and moved flats since walking out of 221B three weeks ago. Not that Mycroft couldn’t find him and still watch over him, but it was the thought that Greg was trying his best to have nothing to remind him of Mycroft.  

He tried to clear his mind of these thoughts as Anthea knocked on the door before entering his office. 

“The latest report on Sherlock has arrived. Seem he was captured in Italy several days ago.” Her tone was casual, too casual for this sort of news. Mycroft couldn’t believe this was the first he heard of this. Didn’t he have a whole team tracking Sherlock at all times? 

“Why am I just learning about this?” Mycroft stood, slamming his hand upon his desk. 

Anthea shrugged. “I didn’t think it was relevant as he has already escaped and is moving forward with the next mission.” 

“From now on I want know the second something like this happens. Do not withhold information again.  Do you understand?” Mycroft voice dipped low with authority.

“Yes, Sir.” Anthea nodded her head before turning and leaving the room. 

Mycroft slumped back into his chair, it was very unlike Anthea to withhold this sort of information from him. He picked up the report that now lay on his desk, reading through the details on the page. There was very little about the incident. Too little for his liking. He would have to watch this closer from now on. 

********************

Mycroft spent the next few weeks trying to keep Sherlock and John alive, he spent his waking moments busy at the head of the team, tracking their every movement. 

On his way home from the office after a particularly trying night, he noticed that his driver was taking a different route than normal, pulling to a stop in front of a pub, Mycroft knew well. He waited as the divider lower between them. 

“I am sorry, Sir. But I was told to bring you here.” The man awkwardly shifted in his seat.   

“By whom, James?” Mycroft disliked people changing his routine 

“Michael, Head of Surveillance, Sir.”

“Michael? Interesting. And whom might I find in this pub?” He questioned. This was Greg’s favourite pub. Surely it was not Greg he was sent to see...

“I am not sure, Sir.” 

“Ah.” 

“Shall I wait here, Sir?” 

“Yes, I won’t be but a moment.” Mycroft straightened his jacket and grabbed his umbrella before stepping out of the car. Upon entering the building, his eyes immediately found Greg sitting at the counter in his favourite spot with his back to the door. Mycroft’s heart took a leap at the second he saw him. He took a second just to look a Greg. He was dressed nicely (not here from work), he was working on his first pint (drinking slowly, not drowned sorrows).  _Wait_. Date shoes. Greg was wearing his date shoes. 

Mycroft glanced around the pub, looking for who it may be. No one stood out. So, stood up on date or date went bad and he stopped for a pint on his way home. 

Mycroft wasn’t sure, either way, his presence would not be wanted.  _Why had Michael sent him here? Was it because Greg was here? Michael was in charge of Greg’s surveillance, but why have James drop him here..._

He turned walking back to the door as fast but as discreetly as he could.  _Michael and he were going to have a long talk very soon. Where was Anthea in all of this?_

“Myc?” Greg’s voice had a hint of suspicious. “Mycroft is that you?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events between Mycroft and Greg at the pub and the lead up to John finding Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit tricky for me. Keeping track of all the details is taking a bit more then I thought. I hope you enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for more. <3

*********************

 

Mycroft had stopped undecided near the pub door at Greg's question. Should he turn back towards Greg or continue out the door, he remained undecided, when he felt a hand on his arm. Mycroft closed his eyes to the touch. God, he missed this man, his touch, the smell of his cologne in the air around him, taking him back to quiet nights together on the sofa. Laying tangled together, his head on Greg’s shoulder, their arms wrapped tightly around the other. Soft kisses, light touches slowly transferring into something more intimate.  

“Mycroft?” Greg’s voice pulled Mycroft out of his mind away from the thoughts of happiness to a place where Greg no longer held him each night, no longer kissed him, a place where Greg barely spoke to him.  

“Mycroft, what are you doing here?” Greg’s tone was even. No anger, but no happiness to see him either. Which was understandable. He should be happy that Greg was even talking to him.  

“Greg, I—I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. I will just be leaving.” He moved again, pulling the door open and striding out into the night air.  

“Mycroft!” Greg called out as he followed him out the door. “Why did you come here?” 

“I had not meant too,” Mycroft stated, not looking back to meet Greg’s eyes. “It was a mistake. It won’t happen again. I know you want to be free of me. Forgive me for intruding on your evening.”  

Mycroft willed the burning tears that stung his eyes to not fall before he reached the car. He waited a moment for Greg to speak when nothing came, Mycroft closed his eyes briefly before walking away.   

Greg didn’t follow him, which was for the best, he thought as he approached the car. James quickly put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. Only then did Mycroft look back at the pub to see Greg standing outside the door, watching him drive away. He couldn’t quite read the look on his face from this distance with the tears in his eyes. Was it relief that Mycroft was gone or sadness. The former seemed most likely as Greg had asked Mycroft to stay away from him and he had not listened.  

*************** 

Several long, lonely months later, Mycroft sat in his office going over the latest reports regarding John and Sherlock’s location details. He had not seen or spoken to Greg since that night at the pub. If he still kept an eye on Greg’s movements and wellbeing from a far (CCTV cameras) that was different. 

He had just finished reading the list of the bodies John had dropped this past week as he crossed through Bulgaria when there was an urgent knock at the door.  

“Do come in,” Mycroft answered.  

Michael opened the door, stepping in. “Pardon me, Sir. But I have news that cannot wait for a report to be written.”  

“Yes? What is it?” Mycroft looked up at Michael over the reports he was already reading.  

“Sir, We are unable to make contact with Agent Scott in the field. He failed to check in yesterday. He never misses, Sir. The last contact was a week ago right before he entered Serbia.”  

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. Where are you, Sherlock...  

“Give Agent Scott two more days if we hear nothing, we will move forward with plans to send a team in. Do keep me up to date the second you hear anything.”  

“Yes, Sir.” Michael nodded before leaving the room.  

Things were better between Michael and him after Mycroft had made it clear that Michael was not to go over his head with matter that involved Greg. The man was just trying to help, but nothing had changed. Greg was still avoiding Mycroft, though not as much as he had in the beginning.  

 One matter at a time. First Sherlock. He picked up his phone sending a text Anthea. As he had yet to hear from her on the matter.  

 

 **Sent:**  

 **I have** **just r** **eceiv** **ed news on** **Sherlock. What do you know about his disappearance? MH**  

 

Anthea was the only person besides Mycroft that knew Sherlock was Agent Scott. They had decided to keep him quiet encase there were any of Moriarty’s minions still watching.  

 

 **Received:**  

 **It’s only been a week** **, Sir** **. You know how your brother can be.**  

 

 **Sent:**  

 **What do you mean? MH**  

 

 **Received:**  

 **Last time he was only held for two days, Sir. I am sure he will be out again soon.**  

 

 **Sent:**  

 **Did you already know he was captured all this week? MH**  

 

 **…**  

 

 **Sent:**  

 **Did you know my brother was captured in Serbia all this time? MH**  

 

 **Received:**  

 **Yes.**  

 

Mycroft threw his phone down on the desk. _A week! She knew a week and said nothing to him._  He scrubbed a hand across his face. He quickly crafted an email to Michael, moving forward with sending a team in after Sherlock. Also, to check the last known whereabouts of John at the same time. His phone pinged from where it lay on the desk.  

 **Received**  

 **Sir, I would have alerted you had there been any reason that he would not get free.**  

 

 **Sent**  

 **A week has already passed. MH**  

 

 **Received**  

 **The situation is being monitored closely, Sir.**  

 

 **Sent**  

 **By whom? MH**  

 

 **Received**  

 **By** **myself, Michael and his team** **, Sir.**  

 

 _Why did Michael not say that he knew Sherlock had been captured all this time if he had been monitoring the situation along with Anthea all week..._ Mycroft let out a frustrated sigh. Someone was lying and this was not the first time he had noticed things not lining up.  

 

Soon the official report crossed his desk with Sherlock’s whereabouts and the compound he was being held in. This was not good. It was heavily guarded from the look of the inferred scans.  

 

He spent the rest of the night planning and following the team as they set off for Serbia. He hoped they would be enough to get in and get Sherlock out without losing anyone.  

 

Early the next morning his phone started ringing, flashing John’s burner cell number.  

 

“To what do I owe this call?” God knows why John would be calling him now. Maybe he was getting tired of the body count he was leaving. Though part of Mycroft understood why John was doing this. 

 

“Save it, Mycroft. I need a plane or helicopter to my position or as close as you can now! I found him...” John’s voice fell. “Now Mycroft!” The line went dead. 

 

 _I found him... I found him..._  

 

Mycroft’s brain began working overtime. He had not had time to tell John, they were already in route. Or to ask how John had ended up in Serbia. Or more importantly how he found where Sherlock was being held. But thank god he did. Now to get the team in the correct position to help them.  

 

He buzzed for Anthea, who entered the room quickly, typing away on her phone.  

 

“Yes, Sir?” She questioned, barely looking up. 

 

“John has found my broth—Sherlock in Serbia and needs our help getting out. How close is the team?” He began to pace the room, his hand crushing the phone, he still held.  

 

“They are 10 minutes out from Vrsac airport, Sir.”   

 

“Get in contact with them, tell them there has been a change of plan. They may need to take a helicopter from the airport to meet John on the road.” He pressed a hand over his eyes. “I will find out how close John is from the airport now.”  

 

He gave her a quick wave of his hand, sending her off to put things in motion. His hand trembled slightly as he scrolled for John’s number. He hoped they would be able to make it close enough for his team to meet them. His heart was racing with worry, please let Sherlock be okay. He couldn't lose him after everything... 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft travels to Germany to help Sherlock and John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all enjoying this story still. I am having fun writing it though there is a lot of plot and details to keep track of. I hope its all still making sense. Thank you for reading!

*****************

 

Mycroft watched the team land near John and Sherlock on the dirt road fifteen miles south of the airport in Serbia. He could see from the feed, John was kneeling over Sherlock, surrounded by the bodies of three men. Another lay several feet away beside a truck, John seemed to be trying to bandage Sherlock’s side.  

“Sir, we have landed.” The team leader came over the line. “Tempting to bandage and stabilize Agent Scott.”  

He watched as they began to move John away from Sherlock, John fighting them each time they tried to remove Sherlock from his grasp. Finally, both were on the helicopter head for Germany.  

He let out a sigh, closing his laptop, before staring out the window of his car. He was on his way to the airport now and should arrive shortly before them at the hospital. Everything had already been arranged for them, including the best doctors he could get in such short notice.  

He thought back to the phone call between him and John, just before their truck was run off the road, just before his team had arrived. John had sounded distraught over Sherlock’s condition, even before he had been shot on the road.  

 _“Not good, Mycroft.” Is what he had said, but it was the unspoken words, the sound of John’s voice that made Mycroft’s heart_ _stop_ _._  

Mycroft tried not to think about the worst that could happen and instead planned the next steps, getting Sherlock and John to the hospital safely. His phone pinged from his inner jacket pocket, reaching in he removed it, checking the message.  

 **Received:**  

 **Update on Lestrade. Forwarding info. Seen in the company of this woman. Name: Mary** **Morstan** **. At dinner now. -Michael**  

 

 **Sent:**  

 **Thank you. MH**  

 

 **Sent to Anthea:**  

 **Will need a full background check on Mary** **Morstan** **. MH**  

 

 **Received:**  

 **Yes, Sir.**  

 

Mycroft tried not to think about his Greg out on a date, enjoying another's company. This “Mary” woman getting his smiles, his laughter, his simply deployable jokes. He felt a single tear slide down his cheek at the thought. How he missed Greg’s laughter, the way his eyes danced along while he joked with Mycroft as they prepared dinner together or simply sat enjoying an evening in front of the fire.  

 

He quickly shut his mind to these thoughts, he had pressing matters to attend to at the moment, there was no time for his mind to become lost with thoughts of the past. He had to focus on the present, on Sherlock’s recovery and return to the living. Greg was no longer “his” Greg.  

 

************** 

 

Shortly after his flight had landed in Germany, Mycroft found himself waiting impatiently for his brother’s arrival, pacing the halls he tried to finish other work that needed tending. Seeing that Anthea had what she needed to take control of the affairs until Sherlock was stable. He knew once his brother was within his sights that all other matters would cease to exist in his mind.  

 

As he set the last steps in place, a nurse walked towards him to say that Sherlock and John had arrived and gone straight into surgery as both were suffering from bullet wounds. He tried to settle his nerves and peruse his emails for any new reports on Mary or Greg.  

 

 **Email Received from Anthea:**  

 

 **Background check on Mary. Last name** **Morstan** **. Age: 35 Sex: female.**  

 **Mary is a nurse working at a local surgery, lives in a modest flat at 12 London** **St.**  

 **No Criminal record, Parents both deceased. No siblings.**  

 **Working on more information.**  

 

 **Anthea.**  

 

Mycroft closed his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. So, she was perfect. No reason for Mycroft to step in and give cause to Greg for why he should not see her anymore.  _Damn._  

 

**************** 

 

“Sir?” A soft voice timidly asked, from in front of his closed eyelids.  

 

“Yes?” He responded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He didn’t remember closing his eyes or sleeping at all. Though he had been awake for the last 24 hours.  

 

“Sir, John Watson is out of surgery and in his room now if you wish to see him. He is not yet awake but should be shortly.”  

 

He nodded before she turned and walked away, leaving him a moment to collect himself and slip his mask in place. He stood to straighten his suit, drawing in a deep breath as he followed her down the hall to John’s room.  

 

***************** 

After John had woken and expressed his anger with Mycroft, which was justified. Mycroft led John down the hall, following the screams coming from Sherlock's room. He wanted John to know, know that he cared more for his brother than he would ever say.   

Mycroft’s phone began to ring as he took his hand from John’s shoulder, letting the man pushed through the door into Sherlock’s room. He was glad for the distraction of the phone call from the screams bellowing from Sherlock. His voice seemed so small and in pain. Mycroft knew he should be in there, but Sherlock didn’t need him right now. He needed John and John would be a more welcomed, calming presence then Mycroft currently.  

 

He stepped down the hall. “What information do you have for me?” He said answering the phone.  

 

“Sir, I have reason to believe someone is planning to kidnap Doctor Watson, once you have all returned to London,” Anthea spoke over the line.  

 

“How did you come about this information?”  

 

“A member of the surveillance team came to me with this, Sir,” Anthea responded.  

 

“Have you spoken with Michael on this matter?”  

 

“Yes, Sir. I am afraid there is just cause that he may be behind this issue.”  

 

Mycroft paused massaging two fingers at his temple, while still holding the phone. “What evidence do you have besides one member of the team coming forward? I have noticed a few events have not been lining up in the past two months. I believe someone within is working against us. I started to see things once Sherlock went undercover. I want this to be a top priority, Anthea. If someone is working against us and trying to kidnap Dr. Watson, they must ultimately want Sherlock as Dr. Watson is only important to Sherlock.”  

 

“Is John Watson necessarily our prime concern, Sir?”  

 

“No, but Sherlock is and also finding the mole. I want you on this, Anthea. Find this person.” 

 

“Yes, Sir.” With that Anthea terminated the call. Mycroft walked back to Sherlock’s door, glancing in quickly, he found John sitting near Sherlock’s bed, holding Sherlock’s hand, trying to calm him. The sight made Mycroft long for Greg.  

 

He quickly closed the door and berated himself for letting his mind wander to Greg again. He too often let his mind stroll down this avenue, which has led him to become distracted from his work. He is stronger than this. He turned down the hall in search of coffee and food for John, as well as himself, not remembering the last time he had eaten.  

 

His fingers betrayed him as he walked, typing out a message to Greg for the first time in months.  

 

 **Sent:**  

 **Sherlock and John have been reunited. MH**   

 

Somewhere in London, Greg checked his phone, reading the message with a sigh on his lips.  _Finally_. His heart was glad for Sherlock and John, but it also ached for Mycroft. His beautiful Mycroft, how he missed that man... 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part is Greg's POV then we finally get to see what happened between Mycroft and Sherlock at the hospital when John left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy the new chapter. I have about 11 chapters all together done or mapped out. There may be more about as of now my plan is for 11 chapters total. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!

******************

Greg closed his eyes to the mountain of paperwork in front of him. He hated this part of the job, filling out the forms, signing the papers. Dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s. His handwriting was atrocious and left little to be desired. But here he sat neck deep in work, wishing he was anywhere else. 

His phone pinged with a message from where it sat off to the side of his desk. For a short moment, he hoped it would be Mycroft, but that was just a fools hope. He had told Mycroft to leave him alone, not contact him again and Mycroft had done just that. There were times when he wished that Mycroft hadn’t listened to him, that he had searched him out anyways. Texted him, called him, anything, but the man had stayed true to Greg’s wishes.  _ Damn him. _

In this he was truthful. Why couldn’t Mycroft just have told him about Sherlock? He thought he meant more than that to the man, they were supposed to be partners, they lived together  dammit . That should mean something. He knew why Mycroft had not told him, but it still hurt like hell. 

He checked his phone to find a message from Mary. He deleted it without opening. That was not what he needed right now. It had seemed like a good idea at the time when she had started chatting with him in the pub. They had gone to dinner the next night, but the second Greg had taking the seat across from her, he knew this was something he shouldn’t be doing. It felt like cheating on Mycroft. 

They had made it through dinner though she had wanted to know if he was the detective that had worked with the great Sherlock Holmes. Once he had confirmed it, she had tried to get all kinds of information out of him, leading him to decline after dinner drinks, stating he had an early morning at work. She hadn’t given up easily, which is why he was now no longer replying to her messages or phone calls. 

He hadn’t realized he was so lost in his thoughts until there was a polite cough at his office door. He looked up to one of the junior officers standing nervously by his door. 

“Yes?” 

“ Uhm , Sir, I have a case I would like to ask your opinion on.” The young man shifted from one foot to the other as he stood waiting.  

“Of course. Be right there.” Greg stood, sliding his phone into his pocket before rounding his desk to follow the officer.  _ Maybe he should send a message to Mycroft... _

_ ************************** _

** Received from John: **

** Your brother is awake. Come as soon as you can. He wants to go home.  **

** Not sure travel is a good idea yet  **

** Sent: **

** Understood. MH  **

Mycroft waited until John had left the room, before turning to Sherlock. He needed to speak with his brother alone, there were things they needed to discuss. 

“Well, he is gone,” Sherlock spat. “What terrible things did you need to say that John couldn’t be present for? Besides the fact that you have been putting on weight.” 

“Lost some actually. But that is not what we are going to discuss little brother.” Mycroft let out a sigh, as he moved to sit next to Sherlock. “There are a few things I think you should know about your Doctor Watson.”

“Such as?” Sherlock inquired. “Do spit it out, Mycroft.” 

“Per your request, John was never told you were alive during this time. There were instances where I had to step in to stop him from doing something you both would regret. Leading him to leave Baker Street to avenge your loss.” Mycroft paused, taking in the expressions crossing Sherlock’s face. “I think you should consider a few things before you continue this train of thought, Sherlock.” 

“What train of thought would that be?” 

“Pursuing a relationship with Doctor Watson.” Mycroft asserted. “You will only hurt him more and you know this. You  and  I are not meant for such things as sentimental attachments. Otherwise, you would never have chosen to leave him in the dark that you were alive all this time. Causing him to almost end his own life multiple times!”

“What would you have done in my place?” Sherlock huffed. “I had no choice and you know it. You are the one that agreed with me on this.” 

“That was before I knew the full extent of the feelings between you both. Sherlock, I am just trying to save you and Doctor Watson from future heartbreak.”

“Just because Graham left you doesn’t mean John will do the same.” Sherlock sneered, turning his face from Mycroft. 

“What happened between GREGORY and me is my own fault. I did what I had to do to protect you.” Mycroft  said firmly . “I have footage that I believe you should see after that we are staying here until you are more stable and only then we will return to London at which time you will stay with me until you have fully returned from the dead. Do you understand? This is not negotiable Sherlock.”

Sherlock sulked but didn’t answer. Mycroft drew his phone from his pocket and showed Sherlock the footage he had of John before John returned to the room with food and coffee. 

As he stepped out leaving John and Sherlock alone, for now, he started an email to  Anthea  and Michael stating that Sherlock would stay with him when they returned and cameras should be set and ready at Baker Street for John’s return. 

*****************

Sitting towards the front to the plane home, Mycroft used the pretense of work to keep busy, while observing his brother and John. Sherlock had spent most of the flight sleeping and John staring out the window. They had talked some while at the hospital, but Sherlock seemed to be taking his advice on staying friends with John and not changing their status. 

He pulled up his phone messages, staring at the blank text to Greg. He started texting. 

** I should have told you from the beginning.  [deleted] **

** I know you must hate me, but I miss you. [deleted] **

** I think of you each day, remembering  ** ** the ** **  softness ** **  of your touch [deleted] **

** I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you just one more [deleted] **

** I love you [deleted] **

** I am so, so sorry, Gregory... [deleted] **

Finally, Mycroft just turned the screen off, there was nothing he could say to make things different between them. If Greg wanted to talk to him again, he would reach out. Since he had not, Mycroft must assume, that Greg had moved on and didn’t wish to speak to Mycroft anymore. He had to bury this heartache there was work to be done and abduction to stop. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft get a chance to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read my little story. I hope that it's still making sense and that you are enjoying it. We are about half way I think. Hold on tight it's going to get bumpy!

 

Mycroft watched the exchange between Sherlock and John on the runway from the car, phone in hand he caught up on his text messages. Buried in the middle, from an hour ago was a message from Greg.  For a moment, Mycroft’s heart stopped beating, it had been an hour.  As he pushed to open the message, h is pulse started racing to a speed that would make most doctors nervous .

** Received: **

** Hey My, do you think we could talk?   **

_ Yes, please, a thousand times yes.. _ . Mycroft’s hand was shaking as he clicked to reply.  _ The use of his nickname had to be a good sign, right?  _

** Sent: **

** Yes, of course. When would you like to meet? MH  **

He waited, staring at his phone, barely breathing, just waiting. Heart pounding in his chest.  _ What if Greg didn’t write back or changed his mind. What if wasn’t about them, maybe he just wanted to know how Sherlock and John were... _

He scarcely registered Sherlock opening the door and getting into the car or the driver pulling away from the air field . Sherlock leaned towards the window; eyes closed, clearing not wanting to speak to him, which worked in Mycroft’s  favour  as he was doubtful he could negotiate a conversation with his brother at this time. 

He tried looking out the window and not at the phone tightly gripped in his hand, willing his mind to think of anything else. After ten agonizing minutes, his phone vibrated in his hand signaling a new message. The moment of truth. 

** Received: **

** Should  ** ** I  ** ** c ** ** ome to the house? Unless you would rather meet for coffee?  **

_ He didn’t change his mind. _  Mycroft gave a small sigh of relief, as he texted Greg back with new hope. 

** Sent: **

** You are welcome at the house. It would be easier as I need to be there for Sherlock. MH  **

** Received: **

** Off work in half an hour. After that?  **

** Sent: **

** I shall see you then. MH  **

** *********************** **

40 minutes later, Mycroft stood in his sitting room, jacket and waistcoat removed, sleeves rolled to mid-fore-arm waiting for the man who held his heart to arrive. Sherlock had gone straight upstairs to his room and made no sound since Mycroft hoped that he would s leep  through Greg being here. He would rather not have a witness to either their reunion or  awkward small talk . 

The bell rang out in the quiet of the house, signaling that Greg had arrived. Mycroft took a deep breath to calm his nerves and moved to open the door .

“Hello, Gregory.” 

“Hey, Mycroft.”  Greg gave him a hopeful sort of smile, that made Mycroft’s heartache at the sight. 

“Won’t you please come in?” Mycroft stepped back from the door, making a gesture towards his sitting room.  Greg gave Mycroft another smile before moving past him to stand near the fireplace. 

“Thanks, for letting me come over. I know I have been really hard on you the last—well a really long time. I just... I needed space to think about everything that happened and about us...”  Greg looked down, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. 

Mycroft hoped that Greg could not hear his heart pounding in his chest. He had no idea where this was going and his nerves were just about shot. “Have you come  here because you have made  a decision or just to remind me of my failings.” His voice cracked at the last part. He was trying so hard to not fall apart and beg Greg to come back, to love him again. 

Greg’s head snapped up at Mycroft’s words. “I’m not going to lie, Mycroft. I was and am still angry with you over everything that happened. You lied to me, to John, to everyone. I know you did it to stop Moriarty and I know it wasn’t just you, but you let me think I had killed your brother of god sake. Only to find out it was all a lie and the man I should be able to trust over everyone else is the one that lied to me the  worst... ” 

Mycroft stood unmoving, letting Greg’s words hit him like a train. He was right, how could he expect Greg to ever trust him again or for that matter love him. He had taken the man’s love and trust and destroyed it with a huge lie that was unforgivable. 

“I know that sorry does not begin to take back the lies I told. But I did it for my brother sake, for my country and I did it—I did it for you.” 

“For me?” 

“Yes,” Mycroft moved across the room to stand before Greg. “It was critical that no one knows of the plan besides a few key players, then Moriarty upped the game by putting snipers on you, Mrs. Hudson and John. Sherlock had to jump or the three of you were to be shot. So, we did what needed to be done and we made sacrifices for the greater good.” 

Greg seemed to be taking in all the information, Mycroft took a chance and reached a hand out to cup Greg’s face. “I never wanted to lie to you or hurt you in any way. You are my heart.” 

Greg’s brain finally caught up and he jerked away from Mycroft, moving towards the door. “I need to—I need to think My. I am sorry.” 

He was out the door before Mycroft could say another word. _  Well, that was that.  _ His phone began to ring in the other room. He walked to the kitchen, picking up the phone. 

“Hello,” 

“Sir, John has removed all the cameras from the flat.” 

**********************

_ “If anything, and I mean ANYTHING happens to that man, Mycroft! I swear I will hold you personally responsible and never speak to you again! And tell Anthea to leave him alone!” _

Mycroft waited until Sherlock was done screaming at him and the front door slammed shut behind him. “What else do you have for me, Michael?” 

“Sir, we have been working on finding the party responsible for wanting kidnap Doc. Watson. We have found that they, in fact, want both Doc. Watson and Sherlock Holmes.”

“I had suspected that. Do keep digging and see what you can find.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Mycroft hung up before setting his phone down and moving to find something to eat. He couldn’t remember when last he had something and decided there was no time like the present. 

*****************

Several hours later, he lay in bed staring at Greg’s empty spot, he still slept on what had been his side. He slid a hand slowly over to Greg’s side letting it linger where Greg’s chest should be. He closed his eyes and for a moment pretended that Greg was there, that his hand rested on his chest and not cold sheets. Turning back to face the other way, he picked up his phone from the nightstand and sent a quick message. 

** Sent: **

** I know you are still mad and will likely never forgive me, but I want you to know I will always love you. MH x **

He set the phone back down and closed his eyes to the tears that burned there, willing himself to sleep. 

3 minutes later:

** Received: **

** I never stopped loving you.  ** ** x **


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea plans the abduction of John, going over Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy this latest chapter! Things are really starting to move! Enjoy!

Mycroft was seated in his chair just before Anthea walked into his office, tea in hand.  

“Ah Anthea, thank you. Just what I need. Where are we at with the abduction plan?”  

“I believe Sir, the best idea would be to let the Serbian’s take both Watson and your brother, so that we may be able to track them to the hideout and remove the threat.”  

“You want to let them abduct both of them, even with Sherlock’s injuries and past captures?”  

“Yes, Sir.”  

Mycroft thought for a moment, sipping on his tea. “You do know that John will mostly kill them before they got out of Baker Street if they try to take Sherlock.”  

His phone began to ring in his pocket, he held a hand to silence Anthea, before answering the call.  

“Yes, Brother mine?”  

“Ah, Mycroft. Up and about early. Good. I need you to forgo me being brought back to life for a bit.”  

“For what reason, Brother?” 

“John and I need time without the circus that me being alive will bring.”  

“Ah of course. Congratulations are in order. Very well, consider yourself still dead until you say otherwise.”   

“Good.” Sherlock hung up the call. Mycroft took a moment to stare at his phone before placing it on his desk. He looked back up at Anthea, who stood still waiting in front of him.  

“Yes, where were we?” 

“The abduction plan, Sir. I believe we should allow them to take at least one of them.”  

“Every well. Let them take Doctor Watson. He will be able to handle himself, should the occasion call for it. I will summon my brother here, so he will be out of the way.”  

“Very good, Sir. I will take care of the details.” 

“Thank you. That will be all, Anthea.”  

Once she had left the room, Mycroft brought up the text message Greg had sent last night. He could scarcely believe the hope that filled his heart from that message.  _Greg never stopped loving him. Maybe just maybe he could forgive_ _Mycroft_ _in time._  

A few hours later, Anthea knocked on his door.  

“Yes, come in.”  

“Sir, I have put everything in motion. I have texted your brother and he is on his way here, leaving John available for the Serbian’s.”  

“You wrote my brother without consulting me first?” Mycroft was feeling less than pleased right now. Anthea just shrugged before laying paperwork down on his desk.  

“Here is the plan and what will happen. Including what Sherlock should be told.”  

“I will decide what my brother should be told. I do not appreciate being left out of the plan until this moment.” He couldn’t believe she had gone over him like this. He was seething.  

“You seemed preoccupied Sir. So, I handled the situation.”  

“Preoccupied?! Just go, get out of here. Make sure Michael is apprised of the situation.”  

“Yes, Sir.”  

Mycroft began to read through the papers in front of him and prepare for cyclone Sherlock to whirl into his office at any moment. Just when he thought things would calm down. Sherlock was going to be furious once he learned what was happening. Best start bracing the nerves and putting on a face of indifference.     

When John’s text message asking for a car came through, Mycroft declined from responding, noting that Anthea had planned everything to a tee, including that he should not respond. He took a minute to wonder if his trust was placed in the right spot. She had never given him reason to doubt in the past, best to trust the plan before him. Though they would be having words after this was done, on how she needed to clear everything with him before putting it in motion.  

 

*************** 

Once Sherlock had yelled and cleared his desk out of angry, Mycroft watched him storm out the door, headed to Anthea. He hoped for a small second that John would handle everything as well as was planned. If anything happened, he did not doubt that Sherlock would end him. He needed to get a step ahead and make sure there were no more surprises.  

There was a light rap on the open door before Michael poked his head inside.  

“Sorry to bother you, Sir. But I believe you need to see this.” He moved forward placing papers in front of Mycroft.  

Mycroft took a deep breath before reading everything over. “How sure are you about this information?”  

“100%, Sir.”  

“And does Anthea know?”  

“Yes, Sir. I gave her this information weeks ago. I was told you knew.”  

“Then why did you bring this to me, if you thought I already knew?”  

“Because I became aware a few hours ago that you did not have this information.”  

“Hmmm.” Mycroft read over the pages; his mind was running a mile a minute with this new info. “Thank you, Michael. I do believe I need a moment.” 

“Yes, Sir.”  

As he left the room, Mycroft reread the pages. Mary Morstan was a paid assassin and possibly one of the snipers during the fall! She was also a high-ranking part of Moriarty’s inner circle.  _How was he just learning of this! Greg had dated this woman! What if she had hurt him or worse killed him and he wouldn’t have known any of this._  

Mycroft was beyond furious at this point. Someone was working against him exceedingly hard and making him look like a fool.  

His phone rang pulling his mind back from the edge. It was from a payphone. John. 

“Hello, John.” 

****************** 

He had not seen the first punch coming, in hindsight, he should have known John would hit him. Once they had all calmed down and Mycroft had filled them in on Mary, he sent them down to the infirmary with Anthea. John had wanted to check Sherlock’s bandages and Mycroft needed a moment.  _How was it that John had forgiving Sherlock so fast?_  He was, in fact, jealous that they had worked through everything and were now together when Greg and he still were parted with no end in sight.  

Greg and he had a history and were together long before the fall, maybe that was the problem. Why it was harder for Greg to forgive him then for John to forgive Sherlock. He should have told Greg from the beginning because Greg was his partner and he should never have let Greg believe for one second that he had any part in Sherlock being dead.  

He would regret that decision forever; he never should have listened to Anthea. But in the end, it was his own decision. His choice to hurt the man he loved, to help save his brother and rid the world of an evil man. He had to live with that choice for the rest of his life.   

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting there folks! Everything is coming together! I hope you are still enjoying this story. Leave me a comment and let me know! Love you all for reading and commenting. <3 Thank you.

Mycroft waited until John and Sherlock left his office headed for the infirmary, before ringing Michael to meet him in the control room. They needed to make sure not to lose the signal from John’s phone. 

In the control room, Mycroft stood watching multiple screens around the city as they tracked the car carrying Mary. He wanted to all of this to be over and done, for Mary and her associates to be caught and dealt with, so he could concentrate on fixing things with Greg. 

“Sir. We have just lost the phone signal.” Anthea said without looking up from her phone. 

Mycroft wasn’t surprised, they had been able to track the car longer then he thought they would be able too. 

“I believe we should send Sherlock and Doctor Watson to a safe house, Sir.” She continued. 

“Start checking airports and train stations, let me know when you find them.” Turning he left the room to find  Sherlock  and  John . Walking down the hall, he checked his phone for new messages. Nothing. He considered writing Greg but changed his mind as he reached the door of the infirmary. 

Pushing open the door, he stepped in to find John standing between Sherlock legs, arms wrapped around each other, lips locked together. His chest constricted at the sight; he was happy for them, but it made him ache for Greg. He let out a discreet cough to alert them to his presence, before speaking. 

“When you are done, there has been a development. No rush, do carry on.” He couldn’t help the sneer that crossed his face as he left the room. He envied them, wished he could have that. To hold the man, he loved in his arms for even just a moment, to feel his lips again. He stopped halfway down the hall, taking a minute to think about Greg and their first kiss. 

It had been after one of their meet up/dinners to discuss Sherlock and his new friend John. Mycroft had started these dinners as a way to spend time with Greg under the pretense of them working together to keep Sherlock away from drugs. They had just stepped out of the restaurant, taking a moment to say their goodbyes under Mycroft’s umbrella as it was raining that evening. 

After setting a date for the next dinner, there was a moment when they both went quiet, just staring into the other's eyes. Mycroft’s heart was racing in his chest as his eyes darted from Greg’s eyes to his lips then back to up to his eyes again. Finding there a look different from what it had been 3 seconds before, taking a chance he had tilted his head down slightly towards Greg’s. Mycroft had found himself afraid to close the final inch, afraid Greg would be repulsed by him and turn away.  They had hovered  there for a  breath,  just  an inch apart before Greg took the final step, pressing their lips together.

That kiss had been heavenly, a kiss that Mycroft would never forget, even now as he stood in this empty hallway, pressing his fingertips to his lips he could feel that kiss. He let out a small sign then continued down the hall, back to his control room, to await John and Sherlock. 

******************

Standing in the door to her office, Anthea watched Mycroft in the hall. She watched him get lost in a thought, which could only be about Detective Lestrade. Inwardly she cursed the man that had changed everything, that had taken a strong, brilliant man and made him sentimental and soft. At one time, Mycroft and her had been a strong team, one that was void of such emotions, one that had kept the world in check. Now he was more lenient in his dealings, it was disgusting. He had always told her caring was not an advantage. 

She watched him continue down the hall, before turning to reenter her office, to gather papers she needed. A quick call to Mary letting her know about the hidden phone and to move the plan forward. Mycroft was so lost in his heartbreak that; he hadn’t noticed anything. She sneered at the thought of his melodrama heartache. 

All it had taken was a nudge here and there to convince Mycroft the best plan of action with Greg was to keep him in the dark, knowing Greg would never stand for the lies. It had really been too simple to break them up, she had played with the idea of letting Mary remove Greg completely there for a while, but was leaving that as a backup. 

She wanted Mycroft back to his hard, unfeeling self, if she couldn’t have that then maybe he was the one that needed to go instead of Greg. She smiled at the thought, then she could naturally step into his position and lead the country back to where she thought it needed to be, void of sentiment and caring. She left her office to rejoin Mycroft with the start of a plan to end him and lighter step in her walk. Everything was working out; it was good to be her.

********************** 

Mycroft waited for Sherlock to figure out that what he had already known ;  about Mary wanting to take both of them and that she was behind the attack on the road in Serbia. He had not planned on Sherlock offering to be the bait, though he should have known Sherlock would put himself in danger before John any day.

Once John had stormed out of the room, he decided to tell Sherlock about the possible  spy  in his office.  

“Sherlock, I do believe that you should think about this a bit more and refrain from returning to Baker Street just yet. There is a possibility that someone in my office is working against me, us.” He spoke quietly, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation. “I would like to send you to a safe house for the time being. Also, I think you should think about arming yourself just in case. I am not sure what all we are dealing with, but I would feel better knowing you were not at Baker Street.” 

Sherlock let out a huff but nodded his head. “I agree.” 

“I will have a car take you there now and will make sure you are bought anything you need for at least the next week.” 

“Find them, Mycroft.” 

“I intend too.” 

*******************

“Sir? I have a n  update on the Serbians.” Anthea said as she entered his office. They had skipped the country on a plane from a private airport shortly after ditching the car. Mycroft had let Sherlock know and told them to stay at the safe house for now. He had played with the idea of destroying the plane in the air, but the widespread damage would be too great. 

He had spent the last few hours planning his next moves to keep everyone safe and alive. “Come in Anthea. What do you have?” 

“The plane seems to be headed to Russia. They continue to change course every  so often .” 

“Keep me updated. I believe I w ill  head home for the night.” 

She merely nodded, leaving the room swiftly.  

He picked up his phone from the desk sending a quick text to Greg. 

** Sent: **

** If you would happen to be free, I would very much like to see you. I miss you. MH  **


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg to the rescue! Ish?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said this story was going to be about 11 chapters, well... I have finished writing chapter 10 and we are nowhere near the end yet. So yea that happened. Not sure how many chapters this will end up having. So glad to have you on this journey to Mystrade! Enjoy!

***************

Mycroft shifted unable to sit still in the car even as tired as he is. His phone clutched in his hand, knuckles almost white from his grip. Greg hadn’t responded to his text yet. He was trying to remain calm, but it was proving impossible at the moment.  

His driver dropped him in front of the house, before leaving for the night. Mycroft took a deep breath on the sidewalk as he walked up the stairs to the keypad and opened his door.  

 

************* 

Sitting on the couch, holding a freshly opened beer, Greg flipped through channels on the telly hoping to find some to take his mind off Mycroft. His mind was constantly bringing up memories of Mycroft, the sadness in his eyes, the painful looks that he tried to hide from Greg. It was all Greg could do not to pull him into his arms and hold him tight.  

A small part of him was still angry, but it was only a small part now. The rest of him didn’t want to spend the rest of his life away from Mycroft, to never feel that man's arms around him or their bodies pressed together. Life wasn’t the same without Mycroft by his side. Sure, he could do it, he could go on living without seeing Mycroft again, but the point was he didn’t want too.  

Before he knew it, he was off the couch, slipping his shoes on and headed for the door. He had to see Mycroft right now, no matter what else was happening, he needed to tell Mycroft that he loved him and wanted him back in his life.  

Flagging down a cab, he quickly jumped in giving Mycroft’s address, at this hour he should be home if not Greg would just wait for him there. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he noticed there was a text from Mycroft almost an hour ago. How co _uld he have missed that!_ Looking in the corner of his phone, he could see it was set to silent.  _Damn!_ He changed the volume and sent a quick text back to Mycroft.  

 **Sent:**  

 **Hey, My, got your message. I would love too. There are things I think we need to talk about.**  

Only a few more minutes and he would be a Mycroft’s house. Hopefully, he was there and not still at the office. _Maybe he should ask My where he was._ He looked up from his phone to see the cabbie was turning on to Mycroft’s street. Might as well wait now, if he wasn’t home then Greg would text him. He may even be on his way home now.  

As they pulled up to Mycroft’s house, Greg could see the sitting room light on.  _Good, Mycroft is here, he never leaves lights on if h_ _e_ _is gone._ He paid the cabbie and slid out of the car, from where he stood on the street, he could just see through a gap in the curtains into Mycroft’s sitting room. Mycroft was not alone. He stepped closer to the window, peeking through, hoping the neighbours didn’t call the coppers for a peeping tom situation.  

Standing across from Mycroft was Anthea, which is not uncommon, but the gun in her hand pointed at Mycroft was defiantly not normal. Mycroft seemed calm as ever, moving slowly towards her, idly moving his umbrella in hand.  

Greg’s heart was racing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the sight of a gun aimed at Mycroft’s heart.  

 

******************* 

 _“You had to know that this was coming.”_    

 **Greg listened to the voices in the sitting room as he slowly entered the back of Mycroft’s house.**  

 _“I suppose you have a logical reason for this.”_   

 **He was relieved that Mycroft had not changed the keypad codes to the house since Greg moved out.**   

 _“Of course,”_  

 **Keep her talking, Mycroft. I’m coming.** ****  

“ _Felt I was getting soft, to sentimental. Too much sentiment for my brother, for Gregory and even John? Decided to take control by eliminating me and assuming my position, have we? Bold move even for you, I must say.”_  

 **Greg crossed his fingers that the gun Mycroft kept stashed in the kitchen was still there. “You never know when you will need one” He had told Greg when he found it cooking breakfast one morning.**  

 _“You will have a plan for Sherlock as well no doubt. Otherwise, this would all be for nothing. As he will undoubtingly discover it was you within moments.”_  

 **_Yes! There is was. Thank god_ ** **. Greg pulled the gun from its hiding place and moved towards the sitting room.**  

 _“Had me_ _fooled, feeding_ _me all the incorrect data yourself. You have been planning this for a while, haven’t you?_  

 _“Going to shoot me in the heart, here in my sitting room?”_   

 _“I think that is close enough, Mycroft. I wanted you to observe what you had missed. What had been right under your nose, while you were busy preoccupied with your sentiment, first with Greg, that undeserving, incompetent detective and then your brother once he fell.”_   

 **_Please no. Don’t shoot him._ ** **Greg tried to stay calm and make no noise as he moved through the house.**  

 _“I was able to rid you of that useless Detective Inspector, followed by a stroke of luck that Sherlock was caught in Serbia. He should have been taken care of there if Mary had not stepped in and sent John after him. She had only her own revenge in mind. But she will be dealt with along with your brother and his little soldier.”_  

 **_What did she mean, she got rid of me?_ ** **Greg paused listening to Anthea. His heart beating wildly.**  

 _“No doubt, you will have rigged the safe house, they are staying in. I bet all this time Mary thought she was in control of you. How well I have taught you.”_  

 **_She is going to blow up John and Sherlock!_ ** **Greg wasn’t sure how to warn them. If he called or texted them now, she would hear and Mycroft would be dead.** **_One problem at a time. Mycroft first._ ** 

  _“I learned a lot from you that I will never forget before you moved to the losing side. Isn’t that what sentiment is, Sir? A defect in the losing side?”_  

 **_A defect in the losing side? Maybe years ago, but that’s not who Mycroft was anymore. Not since they got together._ ** **_His Mycroft was a kind, beautiful person who hides his true self from the rest of the world._ **  

 _“I use to think that. But now circumstances changed. I should never have pushed that on you. I regret doing that to both you and to Sherlock. Though you seem to have taken this farther than he.”_  

 _“I didn’t want it to come to this, Mycroft. But you have forced my hand at this point. It’s time for you to retire permanently.”_  

 **Greg quickly moved to the edge of the hall near the sitting room archway. He needed a distraction and fast.**  

 _“That is a tired cliché. Do try to make a clean shot, I have planned an open casket for my wake.”_  

 **_Oh,_ ** **_hell no!_ ** 

 **Anthea’s phone pinged as Greg stood up and stepped out from the doorway. She looked over Mycroft’s shoulder in** **surp** **r** **ise** **then fired he** **r** **g** **u** **n** **.**  


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is shot and Greg has a chat with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy and thank you for continuing to read and comment on my story. We are getting nearer to the end somewhat. lol Hope you are still loving it. <3

*************

Everything moved in slow motion. Greg watched in horror as  Anthea  fired her gun, Mycroft leaped to the side but the bullet still struck him in the shoulder as he fell. Greg fired at  Anthea  as she ran out of the room, he wasn’t sure if he hit her or not. He was more worried about Mycroft. He fell to his knees next to the man, pressing his hands to the wound, trying to hold the blood in. 

“Greg?” Mycroft choked. 

“I’m here,  My . I’m here. Hold on for me. Please.” Tears streamed down Greg’s cheeks as he dialed 999. Making it very clear they were to move their arse s and get there yesterday  before dropping his phone and turning back to Mycroft. 

“I’m so glad you are here, Gregory,” Mycroft whispered, tried to reach a hand towards Greg’s face. “I have missed you.” 

“I have missed you  too , My and I’m not leaving your side again.” Greg leaned forward to press his cheek to Mycroft’s reaching hand. 

“I am afraid, it’s I who maybe be leaving this time, my love.” 

“Don’t you even talk like that Mycroft! You are not leaving me. Not now! Not ever! I love you! Dammit.” 

“And I — love \-- you, Gregory.” Mycroft struggled to get the words out before collapsing as Greg continued to apply pressure to his wound. Within a few short minutes, Mycroft’s agents came through the front door followed by the emergency personnel. 

Greg stepped back as they began to work on Mycroft, he stared down at the blood on his hands. Mycroft’s blood.  _ God let him live. _

_ “ _ Sir?” An agent walked up to him. 

“Yes?” 

“They are going to take him  now . I have cleared it, so you may ride with him. After his surgery, we  will  move him to a safer place.” The agent continued. 

“Yea, okay. Who are you?”  Greg questioned.

“Michael, Sir.” 

“Michael, do you know if Sherlock and John are okay? Anthea was talking about a bomb at  a  safe house . ” Greg tried to keep the shake from his voice and the tears from falling as he watched them take Mycroft out of the house. 

“I have a team checking on them now. Seems as though they made it through unharmed.” 

“Thank you. That’s a bit of good news.” Greg gave the man a tight smile, before following Mycroft out of the house.  _ Please let Mycroft be okay. _

_ ************ _

Several agonizing hours later, Greg sat next to Mycroft’s bed holding his hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb.  Mycroft had made it through the surgery with no complications and was on his way to recovery. He lay there sleeping, so pale and lifeless, that Greg was afraid to release his hand for fear he would disappear. 

The doctors said Mycroft would wake up in a few hours, so they had moved him to his private suite at the Diogenes Club, where he would be safer.  There were machines around the bed, beeping with each heartbeat, it gave Greg some comfort to hear them.  Michael had taken charge of the security for both Mycroft and Sherlock which included Greg and John. 

There  came  a knock at the door, Greg moved from Mycroft towards the door quietly until he heard Michael speak from the other side. He opened the door, letting the man in. 

“Good Afternoon Detective Inspector.” 

“Afternoon. Greg is fine. No need to be so formal with me. I’m no one special.” 

“Very well. Though I beg to differ on that point. I wondered if I could speak to you for a moment, S--Greg?”

“Yea, sure. I could use a coffee.” 

As t hey walked out of the room, Greg l ooked back at Mycroft once more before l ocking the door behind him and gave the agent outside a quick nod. 

“I would like to start by saying I have been working for Mr. Holmes for over ten years now, I have come to respect him greatly. He is a brilliant man who has done very important, significant work for this country and I am proud to be under his leadership.” 

Greg nodded along,  un sure of what he should say. He knows how brilliant Mycroft is and though he may not know the details of the great things Mycroft has done over the years. He couldn’t be proud of the man.  _ So, why did it seem like there was a but coming?  _

Michael continued, “In saying that, I want you to know also that I rooted for  the  two  you  from the beginning. When I realized that plays were being made against you, I did try to step in help. I was unfortunately too late to stop the fragmentation from the start.” 

Greg stopped walking to stare at the man.  _ What was this all about? He now knew that Anthea had worked to break them up, but how did this man know so much about their relationship?  _

“I can see from the puzzled, surprised look on your face that you didn’t realize that even after the break up you were kept on surveillance. Mr. Holmes was adamant that we kept an eye on you, but were never evasive in our watching.”

“I am not surprised. That’s how he has always been, even before we got together.” Greg shook his head and continued walking, reaching the spot where the coffee was kept, he began to pour a cup. 

“With that, I should say the time he turned up at the pub you were at ,  out of the blue, was my doing.” The man had a look of shame on his face. “I was trying to give him and you a nudge. Didn’t really work out, but can’t fault me for trying.” 

“I wondered about that. It was a very unlikely place for him to t urn up , other than he knows it’s my favourite pub.”  

“Yes, well, he was not too pleased with me after that,” Michael added. 

“Should I be worried that I am going to have competition for him?” Greg teased, he couldn’t help, but ask. The way Michael talked about Mycroft had brought the thought to the front of his mind. 

“Not in the least. I do not believe my husband of six years would not be happy with me.” Michael chuckled. “I just wanted you to know that I have been working  very  hard to compile data to locate Anthea and flush out any of her accomplices that may still be working within the MI5 by giving you a bit of back story. I hope that was okay?” 

“Oh! Uhm yeah, that will be great. I know Mycroft will be happy about that when he wakes. I feel completely useless right now, but if the Met can help in any way, please let me know.” 

“I will, Sir. Now I must get back and I believe you are ready to return to Mr. Holmes. Let him know that I wish to speak with him when he is ready.” 

“I will. And thanks, Michael for everything.” Greg shook Michael’s hand before starting back towards Mycroft’s room. He reviewed everything Michael had told him as he walked. It was nice to know that someone had been working for them for once. 

He nodded to the agent outside the door again before stepping inside. His eyes went straight to the bed, to find Mycroft slowly waking up. 

“It just missed everything important, so you know. Bloody close call, My.” Greg scowled at Mycroft as he closed the door and crossed the room. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is formed and the Boys get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry, this chapter is late. I was having issues with where the next chapter would go and so I had to wait on this one until I had a plan. So a plan has been made! Let's hope it works better than the last 3 plans. oii. lol Thank you for reading! Enjoy.

*****************

Greg closed the door to John and Sherlock’s room. Well, that could have gone better, he shouldn't have said anything about knowing Sherlock had been alive, well just yet. Not when things were still so raw for John. Then again is it that what Mycroft did to him...  

Greg started down the hall towards Mycroft’s room, his mind reeling through everything, hadn’t he reacted the same way as John had. Not want an explanation just lashing out. Mycroft had protected his brother as he always did, he had never meant to hurt Greg, but was trying to protect him as well.  

Suddenly all Greg wanted was to hold Mycroft in his arms, he hurried the last few feet to Mycroft’s room, nodded at the agent and pushed the door open quickly. Inside Mycroft and Sherlock were still speaking.  

“Are you sure that is what you want to do, Brother? Being dead is not an easy thing. I should know.”  

“What do you mean dead, Mycroft?” Greg closed the door behind him, staring the brothers, waiting for one of them to explain what’s going on now.  

“Sherlock, I believe Gregory and I need to speak now. I will take care of everything to keep you and John safe at Baker Street, should you decide you would like to return there.”  

Sherlock nodded before turning towards Greg at the door. Greg knew the second Sherlock looked at him, he could read what happened with John on Greg's face. He grabbed Sherlock’s arm as he passed. “I am sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I didn’t know that he didn’t know.”  

Sherlock huffed saying nothing and continued out of the room. Greg looked back towards Mycroft on the bed.  

“So, care to let me in on the plan this time?”  

“Of course, Gregory. I have no intention of keeping you in the dark from now on,” Mycroft raised a hand towards Greg as he moved next to the bed to hold it. “My Gregory, I will never be able to say I am sorry enough for what happened. I know what you heard from Anthea, but it’s also my fault for taking her advice when it came to you. I should never have done that to you, to us.”  

Greg softened his face, sitting on the edge of the bed he cupped the side of Mycroft’s face, rubbing his thumb across Mycroft’s cheekbone. “My darling, we both made mistakes and said things we didn’t fully mean. I have found over the last 5 months that I don’t want to live without you. I want us to be together like we were before…before everything went to bloody hell.”  

He gently wiped the few tears that fell from Mycroft’s eyes with his thumb, before leaning forward to capture his lips, pressing a soft kiss there. As he started to pull back, Mycroft moved following his lips up, drawing Greg down for more kisses.  

For a few minutes, they traded kisses back and forth, both of Greg’s hands cupping Mycroft’s jaw, while Mycroft’s right hand grazed along Greg’s ribs. It was soft and gentle, there was no rush for anything else, just getting to know each other again after their time apart.  

Greg pulled back, placing a kiss on Mycroft’s forehead. “You need rest, love. As he started to stand, Mycroft held tight to his arm. 

“Stay and lay with me? Please?”  

Greg placed another kiss before moving to the other side of the bed. Being careful not to pull on any of Mycroft’s tubes or wires, Greg slid next to him, reaching a hand to hesitantly hold Mycroft’s hand on his injured side.  

Mycroft hummed at the contact, closing his eyes while letting out a small content sigh.  

“My?” Greg whispered. “Promise me whatever is coming that I will be by your side to help you?”  

“From now on my love. Side by side we shall be.” Mycroft spoke sleepily as his breath evened out and he fell back asleep.  

 

******************* 

The next day, Mycroft, Greg, and Michael met to discuss how things would be handled moving forward. There would be an obituary for Mycroft stating that he died from injuries acquired during a recent housebreaking at his residences where he was shot. Michael and his team were handling everything within the MI5, they were the only ones that knew Mycroft was still alive. In doing this, they hoped to flush out any Anthea supporters before making move on the woman herself.  

Mycroft and Greg would disappear to the coast in France, while Michael searched for leads on Anthea. Once Mycroft was healed, they would take up the lead themselves. Greg and Michael had to fight Mycroft hard on this peculiar idea. He was not keen on disappearing to heal, he wanted to stay and lead the search for Anthea himself. It was one thing to pretend to be dead, so he could move more freely, it was another to disappear fully. 

Michael and Greg stood strong, saying that if Michael found her much sooner than planned, they would come back early.  But until then Mycroft was to relax and let his body heal in a secure location in France with Greg to ensure it happened.  

Mycroft hated letting go of control, but he agreed to the idea and let Michael move forward with finishing touches his death and bring Sherlock back to life, which they had already begun days earlier.  

 

********************** 

Three days later, found them whisked away in the dead of night to the south of France and a house sitting on the ocean with everything they could need, including round the clock security from a handpicked team.  

Greg carried their bags from the front door to the master bedroom as Mycroft slowly made his way through the house to the porch facing the ocean, finding a comfy chair there to sit in.   

This is where Greg found him, legs covered in casual grey trousers stretched out resting on a small coffee table, his right arm supporting his injured left. His crisp white shirt rolled to his forearm on his good side, while his left was buttoned at the cuff, supported by a sling and his right hand. His head leaned back resting on the back of the chair, the slight breeze from the ocean ruffled his hair just enough, painting the most beautiful picture of Greg's Mycroft. Relaxed, casually dressed, Mycroft looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, but Greg knew better. He knew right now though Mycroft’s eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping, the man was far away trying to decipher Anthea’s next moves.  

“Hey Gorgeous, why don’t you come lie down with me. You must be tired from the travel and doc says you need lots of rest and no movement of that arm for a while.”  

Mycroft opened his eyes, lifting his face towards Greg standing in the doorway. “Help me up, Gregory and lead the way. I do quite fancy a rest with you by my side.” Mycroft said with a smile.

Greg leaned down engaging Mycroft in a kiss that was lingering and promising. “Up you go, Sweetheart. Shall I carry you across the threshold and to the bedroom?” He grinned against Mycroft’s lips and before he could protest, Greg picked Mycroft up in his arms and started towards the bedroom.  

“Gregory!” Mycroft shouted in surprise, before resting his head on Greg’s shoulder in defeat.  

 


	12. Chapter 12

Greg woke to an empty bed; he didn’t have to even roll over to know that Mycroft was not even in the room. He let out a sigh, before slowly stretching and easing his way out of the bed. He threw on a dressing gown over his pyjamas, slowly moving towards the loo.  

After, he shuffled, still yawning into the kitchen finding a pot of coffee already waiting for him.  

“I believe I have left a sufficient amount of coffee for you.” Came a voice from the sitting room.  

Greg smiled, pouring a cup before proceeded into the next room, to find Mycroft sitting at the desk, eyes glued to his laptop.  

“Good morning darling,” Greg stop to place a quick kiss on Mycroft's temple, taking a seat on the couch, facing Mycroft, so he could enjoy his coffee and the view. They continued in silence for over half past the hour, Greg merely sipping his coffee and checking his emails. After a while Mycroft closed his laptop, signing and rubbing at his temples with his right hand. 

“I’m at a loss…”  

Greg looked up. “You will find something, `My.” 

Mycroft raised his head to take in the view of his love sitting on the couch, sipping coffee, so relaxed and domestic. He stood, walking over, to lay down on the couch resting his head on Greg’s lap, gently nuzzling his nose into Greg’s stomach.  

Greg ran his hands through Mycroft's hair, softly massaging his scalp. “You will find her, love. Something will happen, she will make a slip and you will be there.”  

 Greg continued his gentle soothing when Mycroft didn’t answer, the fact is Mycroft and Michael had been working hard to track Anthea, but she had vanished. Of course, she had resources, but those had to run out at some point. She had to make a mistake soon, they had been searching for her since they arrived in France just over a week ago. 

Mycroft had been pushing himself against the doctor's recommendation and Greg, who was trying to get him to rest and let heal his shoulder, but he had this thought that no one could find her like he could. Greg tried to help him in the beginning but had gotten to the point where he would just bring Mycroft coffee and be a sounding board for him. 

Each evening, he made sure Mycroft stop for dinner as he worked, followed by dragging him off to bed at night to hold him close. Having Mycroft back in his arms even just to sleep, eased Greg's heart like a soothing balm. They were taking everything slowly, just getting to know each other again.  

The first night, Greg had planned to sleep in the extra room, so as not to assume anything and to make sure he didn’t bump Mycroft’s injured arm. But the second he had helped Mycroft in to bed and stepped back to leave the room, Mycroft had called his name in a soft whisper, asking him not to leave.  

Like the last few nights, before they left for France, Greg had stripped down to his pants and vest, climbing in next to Mycroft. Having Mycroft ease his way to the middle of the bed to meet Greg, then pulling Greg’s arms around him, caused tears to brim in his eyes. Being able to hold Mycroft each night since felt like a dream. Though he had no one to fault but himself for losing Mycroft in the first place. Though Mycroft did tend to argue against that, saying it was his fault, not Greg’s. Greg knew he had a right to be angry but he should have talked to Mycroft instead of just walking away, then moving out. 

Greg looked down at the man softly sleeping on his lap, his dark, auburn hair normally so perfect, was messy from Greg combing his fingers through it. 

“My love,” He whispered leaning down a bit. “Let us take a walk to clear your mind.”  

Mycroft just hummed from his muffled spot, nuzzling Greg’s tummy.   

 

****************** 

A few days later, Greg was headed in from the beach where he had enjoyed a morning swim the warm sea water. As he appeached the house, he could see Mycroft standing on the porch waiting for him.  

“Hey My!” Greg called out as he drew near to the porch, throwing up a wave. As stepped up to the porch, he could see that Mycroft looked noticeably upset. 

“Did you enjoy the water this morning?” Mycroft asked, handing a towel to Greg as stepped on to the porch.  

“Yea, but tell me what's going on, you have that look.”  

Mycroft shook his head and waited as Greg towelled off, then wrapped the towel around his waist. “I am afraid Gregory that there has been an incident at your flat.”  

“What do you mean by an incident?” Greg questioned. 

“I am afraid that last night your flat was broken into and vandalised. Evidently, they were searching for you and were less than pleased to find the flat empty.”  

“Isn’t my flat being watched? Do we know who did it?” Greg paced a bit on the porch. He hated feeling useless in all of this.  

“Yes, it is, thankfully. The suspect was captured and questioned. They were rather amateur and, in the end, it was easy for Michael to get the answers we have been looking for.” Mycroft paused for a moment, watching Greg’s reaction so far.  

“And?” Greg prompted.  

“And, they were asked to search your flat for any details as to where you are.” 

“We knew she would do this. It was Anthea that hired the person, right?” Greg moved closer to Mycroft.  

“Yes, it was. He was only giving a number to reach her and was to do so within a certain time. We have tried the number, but the phone is dead.” 

“So we are right where we started, just with a ransacked flat now?” Greg raked his hand through his hair, letting out an aggravated sign.  

“No, we are slightly ahead. We were able to get from him that the first call Anthea made to him, came from Italy. Also, it was made by her and not through a third party. So now we go to Italy.”  

“That sounds a bit like a trap, My.” Greg felt his copper blood warning him.  

“Of course, it is. She is much too clever for it not to be.” Mycroft huffed.  

“So, you’re saying you want to go to Italy and walk into a trap, you already know is there?” Greg felt like maybe he had heard Mycroft wrong. That can’t really be the plan. Mycroft isn’t even nearly close to being healed yet and here he is wanting to walk head first into a trap, that he knows is there, set by a woman who was able to pull the wool over the eyes of a man, Greg considers one of the smartest in the world.  

 


	13. Chapter 13

Mycroft followed Greg through the house to the master bedroom, all the while listening to Greg rant about Mycroft’s plan. 

 

“I understand your need to catch her, Mycroft. But is this really the best way? What if something happens? What if she manages to kill you this time?!” Greg angrily pulled clothes from the closet, throwing them on the bed. 

 

“Do you have such little faith in me?” Mycroft said softly, from where he stood in the doorway. 

 

Greg stopped throwing the clothes, spinning fast to face Mycroft. “Of course not! I just--I can't lose you. She already managed to hurt you when I was right there.” The last part came out with a small sob. Greg stood in the middle of the room, towel still wrapped around his waist, hand covering his eyes. 

 

Mycroft moved to Greg’s side, wrapping his arm around him, pulling Greg against his chest. Glad when Greg didn’t resist his touch. “Ever my protector, it was not your fault that I was shot. I provoked her, I needed her to confess to why, why she was trying to destroy everything in my life, after all the years and everything we had been through. I obtained my answer at a cost.” Mycroft’s voice cracked a bit. “I am sorry.” 

 

“I know you didn’t mean to get shot,” Greg whispered, embracing Mycroft, being ever mindful of his shoulder. “I just stood there watching it happen in slow motion, feeling powerless. I should have stopped her right then from getting away. But when she fired her gun at you my mind went blank. All I could think was  _ don’t let him be dead _ .” 

 

Mycroft reached up carefully with his injured arm to tilt Greg’s head towards him, leaning down he gently pressed his lips to Greg’s. It was meant to be a gentle, reassuring kiss, but Greg parted his lips and Mycroft let his tongue slip in to taste, deepening the kiss while slowly raking his free hand across Greg’s bare chest. Sending lingering shivers through both of their bodies causing their kisses to intensify into a battle of tongues and groans. 

 

Hands explored bare skin as passionate kisses increased causing Mycroft’s mind to shut down, his only thought was _ more, please more _ . Mycroft let out a moan as Greg made quick work of his buttons, pushing the shirt down his shoulders and on to the floor, making Mycroft glad he had stopped wearing the sling for his arm. It would have hindered Greg’s actions and served as a reminder of the injury, most likely causing Greg to stop what he was doing. The last thing Mycroft wanted right now was for Greg to stop undressing him and discontinue the assault on his mouth and neck. 

 

He slowly advanced Greg backwards, easing the towel from his waist, until they hit the bed, causing Greg to sit on the edge. Mycroft softly cupped Greg’s jaw, pressing kisses across then down his neck as he slid to his knees in front of the man. 

 

“Mycroft,” Greg breathed his name like a prayer. 

 

Mycroft stole a glance up under lowered eyelashes to observe the completely undone look on Greg’s face. Head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open and panting, it was breathtaking. Tearing his gaze from Greg’s face, Mycroft slowly nuzzled his way across his lover’s chest, the feeling of Greg’s chest hair soft on his lips as his hands ran down Greg’s sides to settle on his hips. He gently caught a nipple between his teeth, teasing and sucking, triggering the most elicited sounds from Greg. 

 

Sounds that made his body shake with need, sounds that his ears missed hearing, sounds that reminded him of when circumstances were simpler. Sounds of love. 

 

Mycroft eased his thumbs under the waistband of Greg’s swimming trunks, pulling them down as Greg lifted off the bed allowing him to remove the pants fully. He sucked in his breath as Greg’s erection bounced free of the trunks, already hard and leaking from the tip. 

 

“Oh God,” Greg gasped as Mycroft buried his face in Greg’s groin, breathing in the smell of salt water on his skin while running his hands up Greg’s legs to his knees, holding them open. 

 

“Ah Mycroft, come up here, please. I want to touch you.” Greg begged, taking Mycroft’s hands in his, gently pulling him up to standing. Before reaching to unbutton Mycroft’s trousers, pushing them down his body and holding him steady as he stepped out of them. Together they moved to lay down on the bed, wrapping up in each other, they kissed and touched, taking their time to explore. The sense of urgency replaced with tender caresses and passionate kisses. 

 

\-------------------

 

Greg woke up later to Mycroft’s body gently shaking in his arms. They had falling asleep naked after gently bring the other to release. It had been soft and perfect in Greg’s mind, for their first time together after getting back to this point. They had only slept a few hours before Mycroft shaking had pulled Greg from his sleep. 

 

“Hey Love,” Greg gently kissed the back of Mycroft’s neck, easing the man around to face him. 

 

Once they were facing, Greg could see tears running down Mycroft’s cheeks, his eyes were red and bloodshot from crying.

 

“Oh Mycroft,” Greg tenderly swiped his thumb across Mycroft’s cheeks, erasing the tear streaks and bestowing kisses there instead. “What’s wrong?” 

 

Mycroft closed his eyes, taking a deep, wobbling breath before speaking. “I am failing at every point in life. I continue to fail the people around me. I have failed you, Sherlock, John, Anthea, Michael, my country…” His voice broke and more tears fell from his eyes. 

“My darling, You are trying to save and protect everyone at the same time. That is too much for one person. You can’t always be Superman.” Greg tightened his grip around the man, holding him close as he spoke the words into Mycroft’s hair. 

 

“I destroy everything that I touch. I ruin relationships..” Mycroft let out a sob against Greg’s neck. “Mine and Sherlock’s, Anthea’s and mine, yours and mine. I have even almost ruined John and Sherlock’s. For what?” 

 

Sobs wrenched through Mycroft’s body, breaking Greg’s heart and bringing tears to his eyes as he held the man against him. 

 

“My love, nobody's perfect. You did what you thought was best. You didn’t ruin things with Anthea. She had some twisted idea of what you both were. That is not your fault that she acted the way she did. And as for your brother and John, things between them will be okay. You and Sherlock, well you will be as you always are.” 

 

“What about us?” Mycroft whispered, his voice filled with tears. 

 

“Does it look like I’m going anywhere, My love?” Greg kissed Mycroft’s forehead softly. “I thought we had ready sorted this. Beside you is where I want to be, always.” 

 

“But why? After all that I did to you. How can you just forgive me?” 

 

“Because I love you and I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” 

 

Mycroft let out another sob, his fingers digging into Greg’s sides as he held tightly to him. Greg held on, whispering loving words to him, stroking his hair softly. Tomorrow they would leave for Italy and began what would hopefully be the end to this whole ordeal. After that, he was going to steal Mycroft away for a much need holiday. Just the two of them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting close! The boys arrive in Italy. Ahh Hang on! The end is near-ish. Hope you are still enjoying the story. <3

**************************************

Mycroft was barely maintaining his outward calm and collected appearance as they rode in the car headed for Italy. Greg was sitting beside him, holding his hand, calmly rubbing circles across the back of his knuckles. Mycroft was trying hard to calm his nerves, he brought up thoughts of yesterday morning when he had walked out on the porch to witness Greg returning from the water.  

The sight had sent his heart racing, Greg dripping wet from the sea, the sun glistening off his tan skin and his beautiful silver hair glittered with water droplets. He was a vision on the beach, reminding Mycroft of shared showers, filled with exploring touches and searing kisses.  

 

He fought against his better judgement for a moment to skip telling Greg about his flat and instead counted how many seconds it would take to get Greg in the house and out of his swimming trunks. 

 

Better judgement won in the end and he told Greg about the damage to his flat and Anthea’s involvement, then listened to Greg as he voiced his fears about Mycroft’s plan and the possibility of losing Mycroft again. All of this had been followed by a soft and splendid orgasm, wrapped up in his lover's arms as they had chased after the others pleasure. 

 

That moment had been a bit overshadowed by his breakdown shortly after the tender episode had pasted. While lying in Greg’s arms, he had talked of his failings and of how he had no plan for Anthea once they had her. Clearly, she was a bit deranged, having had shot him in his own home. That alone was enough to put her away for life, but Mycroft wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  He wished he could believe what Greg had said about him not having failed everyone, especially her, but it felt entirely like he had done just that.

 

Had this been anyone else, he wouldn’t have hesitated to bring the full letter of the law down on them. She couldn’t be allowed to roam free at this rate, know to many classified secrets and having tried to kill him, but what would he do if she didn’t comply and fought back instead? Would he send in a team to eliminate her? 

 

Right now they were on their way to what was most likely a trap that she (a person he thought he could truly trust) had set for him and he didn’t even know what he was going to do with her once she was apprehended. Of course, he had told no one this besides Greg as he felt his credibility as a leader was hanging by a thread back at the office. 

 

He shifted in his seat again, staring out the window wishing it was already over with and behind him. He felt a gentle pressure on his hand as Greg squeezed it with his own. 

 

“Don’t worry love. I’m here beside you.” Greg whispered in his ear before dropping a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to shoulder this alone, let me help you.” 

 

Mycroft turned to face Greg, a small smile slipping across his facade as he squeezed Greg’s hand back. 

“Are you still trying to decide the best plan of action for her, once you have caught her?” Greg prodded on, flashing his best smile of encouragement. 

 

“I can think of little else at this passage of time.” 

 

Greg raised Mycroft's hand to his lips, brushing kisses across his fingertips, before holding it to his cheek. “Whatever you decide my love, will be brilliant. You are the smartest man I know and I will be right here beside you to see it through.” 

 

Mycroft cupped Greg’s jaw bring his face a breath away from his own. “I wish I was as brilliant as you believe me to be, my darling Gregory.” He closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together in a (thank you for being you) kiss. 

 

\------------------

 

Arriving at their hotel that would serve as a headquarters for the time being, Greg took their last quiet moments to kiss his love one more time. “You have got this, Myc.” 

 

“I only hope you are right, Gregory.” 

 

They embarked from the car together, Greg helping with the bags as Mycroft entered the building to check that everything was ready for them. 

 

As Greg walked through the main entrance, he found Mycroft standing near the front desk, speaking with Michael. 

 

“Gregory, over here,” Mycroft gave a small wave. “As you can see Michael has arrived ahead of us and has everything prepared.” 

 

“Ah, good on you mate. Thanks. Where are we headed?”

 

“Detective Inspector, good to see you again. We are on the top floor in the penthouse suite. If you would just follow me.” 

 

The three of them rode the lift up to the penthouse suite, Michael filling them both in on all the precautions and security in place. As well as an update on Anthea, who has been spotted in the area. 

 

“It has been to easy to find and track her in the city, Sir. I believe that she is expecting you.” 

 

“Oh?” Mycroft replied simply. 

 

“Yes, she goes to the same cafe every day at the same time, has the last two days. When the employees were asked about her, they said she has been arriving at the same time each day for the last two weeks.” Michael glanced quickly between Greg and Mycroft. 

 

“You are planning to show up then aren't you Mycroft?” Greg didn’t really need Mycroft to respond, he could see the answer in his eyes. 

 

“Yes, I believe I will do just that.” Mycroft nodded swiftly before stepping off the lift and up to the door of the suite. 

 

“Of course, there will be a team waiting nearby just in case?” Greg questioned Michael.

 

“Yes, there will be, of course.” 

 

Greg then followed Mycroft into the suite, wishing he could change the man’s mind and just have the team take her, but Mycroft wanted to handle this on his own. It was his mess to fix, he had kept saying last night and on the ride here. 

 

“It seems, Sir. That she never completely believed Mr Holmes had died.” Michael continued.   

 

“That was never really meant for her anyways,” Mycroft said crisply. “That was to flush out anyone within the office that supported her.” 

 

“Yes well, now here we are,” Greg started. “And you are going to just walk into a cafe, sit down and have tea with the woman that shot you just a few weeks ago?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Goddammit, Mycroft! I thought we talked about this? I know I said whatever you choose I would support but this Myc?” Greg raked his fingers through his hair standing just inside the door of the suite. Michael had observed the moment and made himself scarce to another part of the suite. Mycroft stood by the dining table looking over files laid out before him. 

 

Not looking up he responded. “ I have made my choice, Gregory.” 

 

“Mycroft! Look at me!” Greg shouted fiercely.

 

Mycroft stopped what he was doing and slowly raised his head towards Greg. There were tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he fought to keep control of his emotions. “Please, Greg. I need to do this. Please understand.”  

  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Anthea have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! We are closing in on the end. I hope you all like this chapter. It has been a struggle to get here. This one and 16 have been giving me troubles. Enjoy. <3

“Mycroft.”

 

“Anthea.”

 

“How nice of you to still be alive and joining me here in Italy.” She took a sip of her tea like it was any other day. “I was a bit upset to learn you had lived.”

 

Mycroft gave a sharp nod before seating himself across from her at the small table, resting his umbrella against the side.

 

“I expected teams of men and sniper rifles, never thought you would show up yourself.” She wore a smug smile on her face, like a cat that’s caught a mouse.

 

“I am sure you did.” Mycroft signalled for the waiter, asking for a cup of tea for himself, before turning back to her.

 

“I am surprised that your dimwitted detective let you come and is not here with you.”

 

“You shall refrain from such comments in my presence,” Mycroft stated coldly. He had his emotions in check today. Nothing but cold and collected would work against her.

 

“Oh, have you rekindled the love then? Too bad you were so much better before him,” Anthea’s words dripped with disdain.

 

Mycroft scowled at her from across the table. “I believe we are here to discuss you, not my love life.”

 

“You mean we are here to discuss you backing off and leaving me to live my life? Or retiring and promoting me in your stead?”

 

Mycroft let out a humourless laugh. “Oh please, you know I can’t do that. If you wanted either of those you should have killed me or never tried in the first place.”

 

“Don’t tempt me, Mycroft. The only reason we are sitting here right now is that I let you find me.” She sneered.  

 

“How kind of you. We must have been quite close for you to make such a bold move, but do please tell me what happens next. I can hardly contain myself.” Mycroft reached for his tea, taking a sip while eyeing Anthea over the cup.

 

Anthea stirred her tea watching him. “This is how I see it. After everything that happened, you can’t afford to let this get out and believe me if you take me in I will tell everyone, everything.”

 

“Tell them what exactly?” Mycroft’s voice went dangerously low. “What could you possibly think you can hold over my head that will grant your freedom in any way?”

 

\------------------------

 

Greg was having a hard time standing still, he paced the room, checking on the screen every few seconds. He was probably driving the rest of the team crazy, but he couldn’t help it. He had been against the plan since Mycroft decided on it and now all he could do was watch.

 

The hundredth time he paced around the room, Michael stopped him. “Greg, I believe it would be prudent to join Mycroft at this time.”

 

“Why is that?”  

 

“I think he will need your support once he returns to the car.”

 

“Yea, okay. Lead the way.” Greg took one last look at the computer screen that showed Mycroft sitting in the cafe conversing with Anthea and follow Michael out of the room to a car waiting.

  


\----------------------------

 

“I will take the thing you love most.” She smiled smugly. “I know there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for him..”

 

Mycroft’s mind shattered. _GREG._ No. Stay cold, Stay apart. “What do you mean?”

 

“I have associates that will secure him until I notify them that you have complied.”

 

“Associates? Do you think I didn’t plan for such things? What do you want from me besides your freedom and my job?”

 

“I want your complete assurance that I will be free to live out the rest of my life free of charges and on my own terms.”

 

“By adding blackmail to your growing list of crimes? Do you really think I will just step aside and let you go free? After everything you did? Do you think I will let you be free to ruin my country or any country with your vast knowledge and deranged whims?’’

 

“To save the man you love. Yes, I do.” She smirked.

 

“I think you have vastly overestimated my love for Greg compared to my love for Queen and country.” Mycroft kept his voice even, flat and void of emotions as he finished his tea, dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and stood from his chair. “I have already taken a bullet for my country and I won’t hesitate to rain hell on earth down upon you for threatening to blackmail me or for shooting me or trying to kill my brother and his partner or for anything that your associates may try do to Greg. You have my complete assurance on that. Now if you will excuse me, I have to be going. Do stay and enjoy your last moments of freedom.”

 

Mycroft had his phone in hand as he stepped out of the building. “Greg? Answer me now where are you?”

 

“Hey Myc! I am in the car headed to you now. Are you okay? What happened?”

 

“Who are you with? Greg! Who are you with?!”

 

“Just Michael. Why? Myc, what is happening? What did she say?”

 

“Put Michael on the phone.” Mycroft’s hand shook as he waited for Michael to answer, stepping into the waiting car at the same time.

 

“Mr Holmes? We are in route to you now.”

 

“Are you working with her?! Answer me now!”

 

“What are you talking about? Anthea? No! Of course not, Sir!”

 

“If you are lying to me, there will be no safe place for you to hide. Do you understand me? She told me that her associates would take Greg and here you are with him already in a car. So you can see where I am coming from.”

 

“Yes, Sir. I see, but no I am not working with her.”

 

“I hope for your sake you are not. Please take Greg to the airport. I will meet you there. I want us airborne in fifteen minutes.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Put Greg back on the phone.”

 

“Hey Myc, what is happening?”

 

“Greg, Michael is going to take you to the airport, I will meet you there. We need to get out of this country now.”

 

\----------------------------

Ten minutes later, Mycroft stood near the stairs of the plane waiting for Greg and Michael to arrive. They needed to get out of here and to the safety of London. They should never have left France. Should have just sent a team to deal with her. He scrubbed a hand across his face, trying not to pace as his calm exterior fell apart. He needs Greg in his sight and now.

 

Anthea’s threat lingered and his anxiety would run wild until Greg was on the plane with him, far from Italy and her.

 

Mycroft watched the planes around them take off and land, checking his phone again for any messages or calls and the time. It had been fifteen minutes since they had talked. They should be here by now. _Where were they?_

 

A noise from the plane, had Mycroft turning to see one of his agents running down the stairs towards him.

 

The agent stopped next to him. “Sir, the car carrying Agent M and Mr Lestrade should have been here by now.”

 

“I know that. Do you have anything new?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

Mycroft dialled Greg’s phone, it went to voicemail, same with Michael’s.

_What was going on? Where were they?_

 

His phone pinged.

 

**Received** :

**You should have done what I asked. A**

 

His heart stopped and fell to his stomach. _Greg_.   

What had she done? They were so close to finally being done, to be able to rest. Now nothing. His Gregory was just gone….


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, folks, this is almost over. I had lots of trouble getting this chapter to work. You can thank my trusty bestie Jillian that I didn't just bomb their car and end this with an MCD. Out of the 4 attempts to write this chapter that was one of them. So thank you, Jillian, for not just letting me kill them off and be done with it. lol There is going to be at least one more chapter. Maybe depending. Enjoy!

 

Ten minutes from the airport:

 

Greg hung up the phone, letting out a frustrated sigh. “So airport huh? You aren’t working for her, are you? Cause that would be unfortunate.”

 

“No, as I told Mr Holmes. I understand that he is just taking precautions. Who knows what she told him.” Michael grimaced at the thought, he lowered the partition to let the driver know they were headed to the airport instead.

 

“I won’t lie that I have been worried about this meeting for sometime after her betrayal and then she shot him. Mycroft hasn’t been handling the betrayal as well as he would like to be.” Greg glanced out the window, watching the streets and houses pass by. He could see behind them, following closely was a nondescript black car, far too close to be a normal driver.

 

Michael cleared his throat before speaking. “I am not sure what I would have done in his place. His job is not an easy one and to have the person you are supposed to be able to rely on fully betray you, would be a major hit to anyone.”

 

“Yea, Myc takes everything on as his responsibility, his to take care of.” Greg glanced back at the black car again.

 

“He is a brilliant man and I am sure he will come out on top in the end.”

 

“Thanks, Michael. You have been a bit of a godsend through this. It would have been horrible to find out you were working with her all along. I would have hated to have to shoot you.” Greg chuckled.

 

Michael smiled. “Yes, that would have been most distressing.”

 

Greg checked again as they changed lanes and streets, still the car followed them. “I believe we have a tail. Is that one of yours?”

 

“No. I noticed he had joined us shortly after leaving the hotel.” Michael checked behind them. “I am going to see if we can lose them.” He lowered the partition again. “Simon, see if you can lose the car behind us.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“We can’t be far from the airport,” Greg noted as the car sped up, turning down a side street.

 

“I am going to make Mr Holmes aware of this new development.” Michael pulled out his phone only to find there was no signal. “Damn, no signal. What of yours?”

 

Greg checked his phone quickly to find the same. “Now what?”

 

I guess we hope Simon can lose them.” Michael tried to lower the partition again, but this time nothing happened. “Simon? What’s going on” He leaned forward to knock on the glass.

 

Greg checked behind them to find the car still there as they turned down a small side street. “This doesn’t look good, Michael.”

 

“No it doesn’t,” Michael withdrew his second gun handing it to Greg. “Just in case. Try to stay behind me. Mr Holmes will end me if anything happens to you.”

 

Their car slowed to a stop in a back alley and car pulled in both the front and back of them. Two men stepping out of each, guns drawn walking slowly towards them.

 

Michael looked towards Greg. “Here goes everything.”

  
  


\---------------------------

 

“Sir, we have tracked the car that was carrying Agent M and Mr Lestrade. It was found abandoned about 2 miles from here in an alley.”

 

“Is there any sign of what happened?” Mycroft stopped pacing to give the agent a stern look.

 

“There are agents arriving now. Soon you will have a full report, Sir.”

 

“I want a minute by minute of what they see and find. Patch me through to their coms.” Mycroft strode behind the agent into the plane. His heart beat rapidly in his chest.  _ Where were they? Did they get taken or did they get away? Why hadn’t he heard from either of them? What if Michael was working for Anthea? _ At that thought, Mycroft had trouble catching his breath.

 

No. No. Don’t think like that. Greg was going to be fine. He was out there somewhere and Mycroft would find him and protect him.  _ Just like you tried to protect everyone else and failed, _ his mind screamed at him.  

 

No, this was not helpful. He needs to think, to concentrate. He needs to find Greg. To have him back in his arms safely.

 

“We are arriving at the car now.” The agent spoke over the coms. “There is no one here. There is bullet casings around the car and leading towards the car. We have blood but not in the car or near it. There is no sign of a struggle. Whoever stopped them is gone now. Agent M and Mr Lestrade’s phones are in the car. It seems that Simon was in on this, there is a mobile jammer in the first seat.”

Mycroft cursed loudly in his head.  _ Damn, Damn, Damn! What had happened?! Where are they?! _

One step at a time. Mycroft’s hands shook as he determined the next step.

Greg. His beautiful, gentle Gregory was gone, missing… Taken possible just two miles from where he stood.

 

HIs mind filled with hatred towards Anthea. He should have destroyed her the second they found her. He should have seen her coming months and months ago. Everything that had happened and was happening is all his fault. He had gotten distracted by sentiment.

Not this time.

 

He would burn her to the ground for what she did. There was no place she could hide from him, his reach was long and he would eliminate her if it was the last thing he did.

 

Mycroft felt his confident and cold demeanour slid into place. He needed to focus. He started directing the agents on the ground around the car with his normal assertiveness as he quickly looked up everything about Agent Simon. He had to make sure there was no one else on this plane or on the ground in Italy that could be working for Anthea.

 

He had to know who to trust and he had to know now. Lives hung in the balance.

 

“Sir?”

 

Mycroft looked up sharply. “Yes?”

 

“Sir, there is a taxi headed towards the plane.”

 

“No one should be able to get out here without clearance.” Mycroft frowned. Part of him hoped it was Anthea, here to gloat, so he could destroy her and find Greg. A bigger part of him hoped it was Greg.

 

“I have agent James meeting the car now.”

 

Mycroft set his laptop aside moving to stand, he wanted to be ready for whatever came next.

 

From the steps of the plane and familiar voice drifted through the open door. “Myc!? Where’s Mycroft?”

 

“Gr--eg?” Mycroft’s voice shattered at the sound of Greg’s voice. “But how?”

 

Greg stepped into the plane and straight into Mycroft’s arms. “I am so sorry, Love. Took us a bit longer to get here.”

 

Mycroft held the man close, breathing him in.  _ He was here, alive and unharmed. _

“How? What happened?” Mycroft pulled back searching Greg’s eyes before checking him head to toe for any injuries.

 

“It all happened so fast. There was no time to let you know. Once we knew what was going to happen, our phones were already jammed. I’m so sorry, to have worried you, Myc.” Greg pressed a quick peck to Mycroft lips.

 

“Mr Holmes?”

 

“Yes?” Both Mycroft and Greg turned towards Michael who was speaking on the phone just inside the door. Mycroft had been so distracted by Greg, he hadn’t even acknowledged the man was there.

 

“Sir, There has been a body found at a hotel two blocks from the cafe, you met Anthea in this afternoon.

 

“What does it have to do with?” Mycroft frowned at the man.

 

“Sir, I believe it’s Anthea"


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank each and every one of you that have followed this story since the beginning when it all started with "When I thought I lost you." Which was such a whim that struck me on a particularly bad night I was having. Who knew then that this would become a two-part series. Thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos through both stories. I really can't thank you enough. It's a bit bittersweet as I am both happy it's finally done and sad that it's finally done. I hope you all enjoy this final chapter. Now I can move on to my next big endeavour which will be another Mystrade story following them at College in America. I hope you will join me for that story as well. There is also my story A Friend which is Johnlock if you enjoy having your heart ripped out every two days. Thank you again for reading and commenting. Muah!

`````````````````````````````````

Greg slid quickly out of the car right behind Michael, levelling his gun at the men towards the front of the car as Michael covered the back.

 

“You have one chance to walk away or we will open fire!” Michael shouted at the advancing men.

 

Greg heard one of them chuckle and reply. “It’s five against two, mate. I like our odds.”

 

“Well, they were warned.” Greg shrugged before squeezing the trigger.

 

\---------------------

 

Mycroft stared at the body of the woman who had nearly taken his life and the life of his love, not to forget the lives of his brother and John and countless of people who had no doubt got in her way over the years.

 

It was just all done, in the blink of an eye. She was gone, laying on a metal table in a nameless morgue in the middle of Italy. She had so much potential, she was a brilliant person.

 

It was his fault she ended up here. He led her to this point. If he had been different maybe she wouldn’t have done what she had…

 

Lost in thought, he felt a hand slip into his, holding tight. “I know what you are doing. I can see it on your face. It’s not your fault, My. She made her choices.”

 

“If not for me and my choices,”

 

“No, we are not going there.” Greg interrupted, placing a hand on the side of Mycroft’s face, easing him so they were facing each other. “You are not going to take all of this on yourself. Take care of what you need to, then leave the rest for Michael and let’s go home.”

 

Mycroft took a moment to stare into the soft loving eyes of the man beside him, his steady rock, the source of his joy over the past years. “I will only be a few moments. There is not much I need to do.” He lightly squeezed Greg’s hand before letting go to step away and sign the necessary papers.  

 

One hour later found them settling on to the plane, preparing for taking off. “So what is the plan for when we get home?” Greg questioned Mycroft as they sat side by side, hands laced together. “When do you official come back to life?”

 

“I have been giving this a lot of thought over the last few weeks. I don’t believe I will. I was never official dead. Just an obituary to see who was paying attention. As for going back to work, it does hold the pull it once did.” Mycroft closed his eyes at the last part.

“Hey, It’s ok if you want to make changes now that everything is done. I just want you to be happy my love.” Greg reached to lift Mycroft’s chin with his other hand until the man was looking at him again. “Whatever you want to do I will support you. If you want to go back to work or you want to retire and move away from the city. Just let me know what would make you happy.”

 

“But your job is in the city?”  

 

“Yes, but you are more important to me.”

 

“You would give up everything, your career for me?” Mycroft surveyed the man beside him with admiration. This man would give up everything just to be with him. How had he gotten so lucky?

 

“Mycroft, I am almost 50 years old, I have spent the last few months apart from you doing my job and I find that I would give it all up just to be with you. If you want to move to the country and take up whatever people do in the country then I’m your man.” Greg smiled as Mycroft huffed at what country people do remark.

 

“My dear Gregory, I have no intention of taking up farming or some other ridiculous activity, merely finding a quiet spot to relax, read and maybe tend a modest garden.” Mycroft blushed slightly at the garden comment.

 

Greg smiled at Mycroft’s blush. “A garden, huh? Like flower or vegetable?”  

 

“I would be open to both.”

 

“Hmm, Farmers markets on the weekends, quiet evenings at home by the fire. A dog?” Greg added hopefully.

 

Mycroft felt the plane take off as he gripped Greg’s hand in his. “I wouldn’t be against a dog or farmers markets.” He smirked.

 

“I can see it now, You in casual trousers, a soft jumper and wellies in the garden at dawn, while the dog and I make a proper English breakfast for all of us to enjoy afterwards.” Greg pulled Mycroft close, pressing their lips together, starting soft then moving to full snogging before pulling back. “Hmm, it's a beautiful picture, Mycroft. I want that with you.”

 

“Really? You would give up your life now for me and gardens?”

 

“Don’t forget farmers markets, dogs and a love that defines all others.” Greg kissed him again. “You had me at you, my love, the rest is just a bonus.”

 

“Gregory.” Mycroft crushed their mouths together until neither could breathe. “I love you.

 

\-----------------------------

 

6 months later:

 

“Mycroft! Come in from the garden love, your brother and John have arrived!” Greg yelled from the porch of their cottage before returning inside to meet Sherlock and John at the front door.

 

“Welcome both of you.” He smiled as they entered.

 

“Thanks, Greg, It’s great to see you again. It’s been a while.” John smiled, giving Greg a pat on the shoulder.

 

Sherlock glanced around the front room, taking everything in. “I see domestic life seems to suit you both.”

 

“Yes, it does. Thanks for noticing.” Greg laughed at Sherlock’s look of disdain.

 

“We are very happy for the both of you, Greg. Truly.”

 

“Thanks, mate. We are glad you could both be here for this moment in our lives. It’s a special day for us.” Greg smiled as Sherlock faked gagging at his statement.

 

“Do us a favour, brother, and go outside if you are going to throw up. John, good to see you.” Mycroft entered from the kitchen, coming to stand next to Greg, putting his arm around him. “My love, have you shown them around yet?”

 

Greg pressed a kiss to the tip of Mycroft’s nose. “Not yet, I was waiting for you, darling.”

 

“Sherlock, please go outside if you insist on making those retching sounds.” Mycroft sighed at the performance his brother was putting on.

 

“Sherlock, I think we can get past this for one weekend, seeing how it’s Greg and Mycroft big day.” John pulled Sherlock close, whispering something in his ear that only Sherlock could hear, but Mycroft had a pretty good idea of what was being said. Smiling he turned back to Greg, giving him another kiss before stepping away.

 

“Sherlock, if I could have a word?” Mycroft asked, waving a hand towards the next room, before walking away.

 

“Just one?” Sherlock smirked, following behind him.

 

“I would ask Brother that you stand up next to me tomorrow? If it’s not too much to ask?” Mycroft waited trying not to worry about what his brother's answer may be.

 

“Really? You have no one else?” Sherlock seemed shocked.

 

“No, not really. If it’s too much I will find someone, I’m sure.” Mycroft shifted through the people he could ask, hoping Sherlock would change his mind. “I thought maybe since things were better between us that you would want to do this for me.”

 

This seemed to stop Sherlock for a moment. “You are right. Yes, Mycroft I will stand up with you tomorrow. What’s John going to do?”

 

“Gregory is asking him to stand up by his side.”

 

“Ah. Mycroft, I did want to thank you for setting John up with that therapist before you leave for France all those months ago.” Sherlock looked around the room, before looking back at Mycroft.

 

“You are welcome. It seems to have helped him from the look.”

 

“Yes, it did.”

 

“Good, I am glad you to have found your contentment.” Mycroft smiled at his brother. “Shall we rejoin our other halves?”

 

An upon returning, John quickly went off with Sherlock to see the back garden and Francis (Greg’s puppy, named after their time in France) who was enjoying the sun on the porch.  

 

“Are you happy my love?” Mycroft enquired as he put his arms around Greg, pressing kisses against his neck.

 

“Perfectly, Myc. I couldn’t ask for better then I have now and tomorrow will just seal it all in stone.”

 

“Or in a ring.” Mycroft chuckled as he captured Greg’s lips with his, drowning in the love that spilled from them. His heart no longer hiding behind a mask of indifference.

 

The end. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave me a comment and or come find me on twitter @octoberisblue. How you enjoyed!


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